My wife and I were returning from a party at 2 AM when our car died in a remote area. There were no mobiles then, so we waited. An hour later, a college student passed by and drove us to town. We offered money but he said, “Happy to help.” Years later, my wife called in tears. With a shaky voice she told me to open the news. Turns out that student…was a wanted man.

I remember that night like it was yesterday. It was late, and we were running on fumes—both figuratively and literally. My wife and I had spent the evening at a friend’s birthday party in a nearby city, and we’d had such a good time that we lost track of how far we’d driven home. On top of that, the back roads where we lived had a tendency to be pitch black. No streetlights. No passing cars. So, when the engine sputtered and gave out, we found ourselves in the middle of nowhere.
We tried to keep calm. We had no phones back then—no quick way to call for roadside assistance or even a tow truck. Our only plan was to wait and hope for a Good Samaritan to come along. After about an hour, the silence was still eerie. Trees loomed on either side of the narrow road, their branches forming jagged shapes in the moonlight. Every little rustle made us jump, half-expecting some kind of wild animal. I was already thinking about how we might have to sleep in the car.