The Humiliation of the Stolen Ride

It was the start of the Easter Weekend, and Id planned to take my

electric carwhich I'd customized with a full-size bed in the backcamping.

Unexpectedly, my buddy showed up with his wife and kid, insisting on hitching a

ride, claiming it was just for a short stretch. I had to use the restroom, so I

told them to wait in the car. But when I came out, my car was gone.

I immediately called him, no answer. I messaged him on social media, only to

find Id been blocked. About half an hour later, he finally replied,

nonchalantly saying, "You can still have fun on your own, we'll just borrow the

car for a few days."

Seeing that message, I couldn't help but laugh. Then, without hesitation, I

called the police and reported: my car had been stolen.

"Can you really sleep in this car?"

Mark leaned his head into my back seat as I was putting up sun shades on the

windows. Id spent two weeks converting this electric car. The back seats folded

flat, and with a custom mattress, it became a perfect queen-size bed, about 53

by 75 inches. I even strung up some fairy lights at the head of the bed; it

looked like a cozy little Airbnb.

"Yep," I said. "I'm heading to the coast for Easter, going to lie in the

car and watch the stars at night."

Mark's eyes lit up. Whenever his eyes lit up, I knew it meant trouble.

"That's awesome," he said. "We were looking to get out of town for Easter

too. We'll just hitch a ride with you."

My heart sank. Hitch a ride? I was looking forward to a solo trip to the coast.

What "hitch a ride"?

"Where's your wife?" I asked.

"She'll drive her own car."

I breathed a sigh of relief. Then he added, "Or, actually, we'll just take

yours."

I paused. "You have your own car. Why take mine?"

Mark started counting on his fingers. "Your EV saves money, man. Pennies a mile,

while a gas car is like fifty cents. It's just for the first leg of the trip for

my family of three. We'll get off there and do our own thing, won't hold you

up."

"Family of three?"

"Yeah, my wife Sarah, and our little Maya. You know Maya, she's five, cute as a

button."

My stomach started to churn. Five-year-old girl, cute? Last time I went to his

place, Maya ripped a charm off my bag and put it in her mouth.

"My car's got a bed in the back; it can't fit that many people," I tried to

demur.

"It'll fit, it'll fit," Mark said, pulling open the back door and sliding in.

"You drive, I'll ride shotgun, and Sarah and Maya can sit on the bed in the

back. Perfect."

Perfect my ass. That was my bed.

But Mark was my college buddy, we'd known each other for seven or eight years.

He'd helped me move once, even though it was just two boxes, but a favor's a

favor.

"Just for a bit," Mark said, seeing my hesitation, quickly adding, "We'll get

off at the first rest stop, and you can go enjoy your trip. Saves us paying for

tolls too."

I hesitated. Just for a moment.

"Alright, fine."

When I said those two words, a voice in my head whispered: You're going to

regret this. But I said them anyway.

That evening, I posted on Instagram: "Easter EV camping, my mobile

sanctuary." I included nine photos: the big bed, the fairy lights, the mattress,

the sun shades, the storage bins, charging cables, a folding table, a coffee

maker, and screenshots of coastal guides. Mark instantly liked it and commented:

"Can't wait!" I stared at those two words for a long time. Something felt off.

Easter morning, I arrived an hour early at our meeting point. My trunk was

packed to the brim: a box of snacks, six instant meals, eight bottles of drinks,

four cans of coffee, two bottles of water, plus a thin blanket and a bag of

toiletries. The bed was neatly made, pillows in place, sun shades up. I even put

an air freshener by the head of the bed, lemon-scented.

I stood by the car, feeling pretty good. Then Mark's family arrived. Sarah was

dragging a suitcase, and Maya was perched on her mom's shoulders, holding a

lollipop.

"Here we are!" Mark waved at me from a distance. "Your car's easy to spot, being

white and all."

I said, "Hop in. Front seat for you, back for your wife and kid."

Mark pulled open the back door and froze. "Whoa, your bed is huge," he said.

"Maya, quick, get in."

Maya kicked off her shoes and started climbing up. Before I could even say, "Put

your shoes on," she was already stepping on my pillow. One foot. Two feet. Two

gray smudges on the white pillow.

"Maya, put your shoes on," I said.

Mark interjected, "It's fine, it's fine, kids' feet aren't dirty."

I looked at the pillow. White, brand new, just arrived last week.

"She's just a kid, don't sweat it," Mark said, smiling and patting my shoulder.

I didn't say anything.

Maya bounced on the bed a couple of times, the mattress creaking. Her lollipop

fell on the bed, leaving a sticky pink stain. She picked it up and put it back

in her mouth.

Sarah settled into the back, leaning against the mattress, stretching out her

long legs, taking up half the bed. "This EV's back is actually pretty good," she

said. "Bigger than I thought."

Mark got into the passenger seat and buckled up. "Let's hit the road!"

I started the car and merged onto the highway. Less than ten minutes later,

Sarah started talking.

"What's the range on this car?"

"Four hundred miles."

"Actual?"

"About three-fifty."

"How far can that really get you?" Sarah glanced at me in the rearview mirror.

"You'll need to charge to get to the coast, right?"

"There are charging stations along the way; I've planned it out."

"What's the point of planning?" Sarah said. "Listen to me, take I-95. There are

more stations at the rest stops there."

I said, "My route has stations too."

"Your route will be jammed," Sarah said confidently. "What road isn't jammed on

Easter? I check my navigation every day; I know better than you."

I glanced at Mark.

Mark said, "Listen to her, she drives a lot, she's got experience."

I didn't say anything, continuing to follow my navigation.

Maya started singing in the back. A nursery rhyme, just two lines repeated over

and over, very loud, with leg-kicking. Thump, thump against the back of my

driver's seat.

"Maya, stop kicking," I said.

Maya kept kicking.

"Maya!" Mark called out.

Maya paused for half a second, then resumed kicking.

"She's just an energetic little girl," Sarah said. "This car's still too small.

Next time, get an SUV."

I said, "This is my car."

Sarah chuckled. "I know it's yours. I'm just saying, an SUV would suit you

better."

Maya started rummaging through my storage bin.

"Dad, what's this?"

"Don't touch other people's stuff."

"I'm just looking."

Thump. Something fell to the floor. Through the rearview mirror, I saw Maya

holding an unopened bag of chips.

"Those are Uncle Alex's. Put them back," Mark said.

Maya didn't put them back. She ripped them open directly. CRACK. The chip bag

opened.

Everything I'd prepped the day before was now torn open.

Maya, as if she were in her own home, pulled things out of the storage bin one

by one. Chips, cookies, chocolate, Jell-O cups, yogurt, hot dogs, hard-boiled

eggs, chicken feet, sunflower seeds, peanuts, French fries, shrimp crackers,

mini muffins, Twinkies, Oreos, Ritz crackers

"Dad, I want this."

"Dad, what's this?"

"Dad, this is good."

Mark kept saying, "Don't touch other people's stuff," but he didn't stop her

from touching a single thing.

Maya opened three bags of chips. The original flavor was spilled all over the

bed, the tomato flavor smeared on the mattress, and the BBQ flavor scattered

into the seat crevices.

"Uncle Alex, these chips aren't good," Maya said, tossing a half-eaten chip back

into the bag.

I said, "Maya, if you don't want to eat it, just set it aside. Don't throw it

back in."

Maya glanced at me, then upended the entire bag of chips onto the floor.

Mark quickly said, "She didn't mean to. I'll buy you more later."

Later. I knew that word all too well. Last time he borrowed fifty bucks from me,

he said, "I'll pay you back later." It took him two years to pay me back, and

when he did, he said, "You're not short on cash anyway."

Maya started on the next item: instant meals. All six instant meals were opened,

seasoning packets scattered all over the bed. Chili oil dripped onto the

mattress, staining a large red patch.

"Those need water; don't mess with them," I said, a little agitated.

Sarah picked one up and looked at it. "Instant meals, huh? I'm hungry. Make

one?"

"Those are for my lunch."

"You can have mine first. I'll buy you more later." Mark pulled a granola bar

out of his bag and offered it to me. "Here, hold yourself over." I didn't take

it. That granola bar was a dollar store special. My instant meals were gourmet,

eight bucks each.

Maya then opened the drinks. All eight bottles were taken out of the box,

unscrewed one by one, a sip taken from each, then put down. Half a bottle of

cola, half a bottle of Sprite, an unscrewed iced tea bottle was turned upside

down directly onto the mattress.

"Maya!" I finally raised my voice.

Maya froze, her mouth puckered, about to cry.

Mark's face changed. "Don't yell at her! She's just a kid."

I said, "My mattress is all wet."

"We'll wash it when we get back."

"Will it even come clean?"

"If it doesn't, we'll buy you a new one." Mark said this without even looking at

me.

Sarah chimed in at this point, "This coffee is good." She took my last can of

iced coffee from the box. Blue can, imported, five bucks a can, I'd specifically

saved it for an afternoon pick-me-up. She pulled the tab, gulp, gulp, and drank

two big mouthfuls.

"This brand is just okay," Sarah said, smacking her lips. "Too sweet. Next time

I'll recommend one to you, from Japan, that one's really good."

I said, "That's my coffee."

"I know it's yours. I never said I wouldn't pay you back. I'll bring you a whole

case later."

Later. Again with "later."

Maya started opening the chicken feet. Pickled pepper flavor. She opened it,

dropped it on the mattress, and chili oil smeared another spot. She picked it up

with her hand, gnawed on it a couple of times, and then tossed it beside my

pillow.

"Maya, if you're going to eat, eat properly. Don't throw it everywhere," I said.

"She is eating," Mark said. "When did you get so uptight?"

I took a deep breath. Through the rearview mirror, I saw the back seat was a

disaster. The mattress was covered in snack crumbs, several chili oil stains,

the pillow askew, the pink lollipop stain dried and sticky. The storage bin was

half-empty, things scattered everywhere. Maya sat amidst a pile of wrappers, her

hands covered in chip crumbs, wiping them on the mattress.

Sarah leaned against the bed, her phone blasting short videos, laughing loudly.

"Look at this one, LOL, I'm dying."

I glanced at Mark. He was on his phone.

"You guys are getting off at the first rest stop, right?" I asked.

"Yeah," Mark said, without looking up. "That rest stop ahead. We'll get off

there."

I looked at the navigation. Thirteen miles left.

Thirteen miles, I thought. Just bear with it.

I looked at the ruined mattress and the empty can of my iced coffee, and I

didn't say a word. My grip on the steering wheel tightened.

Thirteen miles. Almost there.

"Here we are, this rest stop!"

I checked the navigation. The first rest stop. A sigh of relief. Finally, I

could get this burden out of my car. I put on my turn signal and slowly pulled

into the rest stop.

Marks family had been at it for almost two hours in the car. Maya dumped the

last bag of chips on the mattress and played with the crumbs. Sarah had her

phones video volume turned all the way up, laughing nonstop.

I parked the car and put on the handbrake. "You guys should gather your things."

I looked back at the rear seat, which was an utter mess. The mattress was

covered in snack crumbs, chili oil stains everywhere, drink bottles tipped over.

Mark said, "Why don't you go to the restroom first? We'll clean up."

I really had to go. Id been holding it in on the highway. "Okay, but hurry up

and pack. I'll be right back."

I pushed open the car door and walked towards the restroom. The rest stop was

crowded. First day of Easter weekend, cars and people everywhere. I waited

in line for the restroom, washed my hands, splashed water on my face. It took

less than five minutes.

I walked back to where I parked. The spot was empty.

I froze, thinking I'd remembered the wrong spot. I looked at the cars next to

it: a black SUV, a gray minivan. No, this was it.

My white EV was gone.

I stood there, staring at the empty parking space for three seconds. No way.

I pulled out my phone and called Mark. Ringringring No answer.

I called a second time. Ringringring Still no answer.

I called Sarahs phone. "The number you have dialed is currently switched off."

Switched off?

I called Maya's smart watch. Mark had bought his daughter a kids' watch that

could make calls. "The number you have dialed is currently busy." Busy?

I stood in the rest stop parking lot, phone to my ear, listening to the repeated

rings. The May sun was quite strong. Cars everywhere. People everywhere. But I

didn't know a single soul.

I called Mark again. Third time. Fourth time. Fifth time. All went unanswered.

I opened my messaging app. "Mark, where are you guys?" Sent. No reply.

"Sarah, where did you guys drive the car?" Sent. No reply.

"Why can't I reach Maya's watch?" Sent. No reply.

I checked the message status. Sent, but unread. Had they blocked me? Or just not

seen it?

I started searching the rest stop. I walked a full circle around the parking

lot, nothing. Walked to the gas station, seven or eight cars in line, but no

white EV. Walked to the restaurant, lots of people, but no Mark, no Sarah, no

Maya.

I stood at the restaurant entrance, palms sweating. They wouldn't just leave me.

Impossible. I was the car owner. It was my car. How could they?

I pulled out my phone again, this time not calling, but sending voice messages.

"Mark, where are you? Stop messing around." Sent. No reply.

"Sarah, answer your phone. What's going on?" Sent. No reply.

I stood in the rest stop, the sun burning my neck. An older lady next to me

glanced at me and asked, "Young man, what's wrong?"

I said, "My family drove away with my car."

She said, "Call them."

I said, "They're not answering."

The lady shook her head and walked away.

I stood at the rest stop for ten minutes. Fifteen minutes. Twenty minutes. My

phone remained silent. I kept checking my messages; all were unread.

I started to consider all possibilities. Maybe Maya was sleepy, and they drove a

bit further to a quiet spot to pull over? Maybe the rest stop was too noisy, so

they moved to another spot to wait for me? Maybe Sarah thought it was too

crowded here and drove ahead to the gas station? But I knew none of these were

right. Because my phone was in my hand. If they were looking for me, they would

just call. They didn't.

Twenty-one minutes. I called Mark. Still no answer. Twenty-two minutes. I called

Sarah. Still switched off. Twenty-five minutes. I called Maya's watch. Still

busy.

At the twenty-eighth minute, my messaging app suddenly chimed. Mark had replied.

Not text, but a voice message.

I tapped it. Mark's voice came through, cheerful, as if nothing had happened.

"Oh, sorry, Maya said she was sleepy, so we just left first. You can just find a

place to chill on your own, it's not like it costs much. We'll just borrow the

car for a few days, bring it back when we're done."

After listening to that voice message, I froze. Borrow it for a few days? Bring

it back when they're done? Was this something a person would say?

I immediately sent a voice message back: "You guys are stealing my car."

Sent.

This time Mark replied quickly, typing. "Don't be so petty, man. We're buddies."

We're buddies. You call this being buddies?

I called him directly. It rang twice, then he picked up. "Mark, bring the car

back."

"Oh, come on, we're already on the highway. How are we supposed to turn back?"

"Get off the highway now, turn around and come back."

"Turning around is such a hassle, it'll take hours. Just let us borrow it for a

few days, okay?"

"I didn't agree."

"Didn't you tell us to get off at the first rest stop? We're already here, at

the rest stop you mentioned. We just didn't get out of the car, that's all."

I took a deep breath. "You guys promised to get off."

"Maya was sleepy, you know. The kid's welfare is important. You're alone, you're

fine. Just find a place to stay."

"All my stuff is in the car."

"Your stuff isn't worth much. I'll replace it later."

"What about my car? Is the car not worth much either?"

Mark paused on his end, then said, "Don't be so hot-headed. We're just borrowing

it for a few days, it's not like we're not giving it back."

"When are you giving it back?"

"When we're done having fun, at the end of Easter weekend, I guess."

End of Easter weekend? Today was May 29th; there were still four days left

in the holiday.

"Give it back now."

"What's wrong with you?" Mark's voice changed. "I told you Maya was sleepy, and

you're insisting we get off the highway. Are you sick or something?"

"Stealing my car and calling me sick?"

"It's not stealing! I'm just driving it!"

"You didn't have my permission."

"Maya was sleepy! Don't you understand a kid being sleepy?"

"That's your problem. Now, drive the car to the nearest rest stop and wait for

the police."

"Are you insane? Calling the police on your own friend? Do you have any

conscience?"

"You steal my car, and you're talking about conscience?"

Mark suddenly started crying on the other end, a full-blown wail. "Officer, you

be the judge! I just drove my friend's car for a bit, and he wants to arrest me!

Is there really such a person?"

The officer took the phone back. "Sir, please drive the vehicle to the nearest

rest stop and cooperate with the investigation. Driving a vehicle without the

owner's permission is a potential legal offense."

"I haven't broken the law! He agreed!"

"The owner now says he did not agree."

"He's lying!"

"Then please come back for a face-to-face confrontation."

Mark fell silent on the other end. After a few seconds, the call ended. The

officer called again, but it was switched off.

The officer looked at me. "They've turned their phones off."

I said, "I know. That's just how they are."

The officer made a few more notes in his notebook, then picked up the desk phone

and made a call. "Hello, command center? This is I-95 Rest Area here, we have a

motor vehicle theft case. License plate [XXX], white EV [Make/Model], currently

located on I-95 North, about ninety miles from here. Please assist in

interception at the next toll booth."

After hanging up, the officer turned to me. "Please have a seat. We're handling

it."

I sat in the chair in the police station, looking at the large words "Serve the

People" posted on the wall. My phone vibrated. I looked down. Not Mark. It was a

notification from the Tesla app.

"Vehicle powered off."

They had stopped the car.