While on a road with my family, we suddenly pulled over to a semi-full parking lot. I got out of the car and stretched my arms and legs. After three hours of driving through rural Romania, the whole family decided that we needed to take a break. We ended up in small town, a town seemingly devoid of people where the buildings were white and empty. A town where I would meet a very strange man. But before that happened my parents noticed a sign that read “covrigi”, which means pretzels in Romanian. They told me and my brother to wait in the car while they went to the store. It was mid July and the lack of air conditioning quickly became unbearable. As soon as I opened the car door a gush of fresh cool air engulfed me.

Opening the car door not only gave me fresh air, but also the idea to leave the car. I started to think that maybe my parents wouldn’t get me the pretzels that I had wanted. So I convinced my younger brother to follow me to the pretzel shop where my parents were. I closed the door but didn’t lock it. “What could happen” I thought as I calculated the probability of someone actually stealing the car.

As we walked to the pretzel shop I noticed another small shop. It was actually more of a hut than a shop but a shop regardless. There were only three aisles, of which one was empty. There were also a few men playing a card game on a table in the middle of the shop. What caught my attention about this shop was the fact that it had a refrigerator. See, earlier during the week I had discovered that such a thing as “orange nectar” existed. It had been one of the best juices that I had ever tasted so I was naturally excited to share my discovery. To my dismay, no one that I told believed me so when I saw a fridge, I thought that I could prove its existence. I showed my brother the fridge and, with a sigh, he agreed to take a look with me. I opened the fridge door and, sure enough, there it was. The orange nectar was on the shelf, real and ready to be bought.

I couldn’t contain my excitement so I started to shout and make a big deal out of the discovery. One could probably not help but notice me and my brother. Just as I was about to walk away a strange man approached me. The man was around 6 feet tall, with short hair and few teeth. He wore tattered clothes and bore a suspicious smile.

“You have an accent.” He said, “Are you from Hungary?”

I knew that this man was not a sign of good things to come but I couldn’t just avoid his questioning. I said that I wasn’t from Hungary and didn’t explain where I was from in an attempt end the conversation. I knew that this conversation wasn’t about to end too soon and that I had fallen into a trap. I didn’t want to seem rude just in case he was actually a nice man but I didn’t want to have a conversation either. Unfortunately, the man persisted.
“Where are you from then?” he asked.

I said that I was born in Romania but raised in the U.S.

“Where in the U.S?” he asked.

I said that I was from California. As soon as that word left my mouth I realized that I had made a mistake. Around the world California is known for celebrities and rich people. The man’s interest suddenly peaked, his eyes lit up, and his questions became weirder. I became certain that I had made a mistake when he asked me the next question on his mind, the question that had been on his mind ever since I told him I was an American.
“Where is your car?” he demanded to know.

“Oh well... I’m not really sure... It's a rented car” I mumbled quietly. I pointed to the opposite direction of the car and said that the car was over there. Now I usually believe that lying is a mistake however in this case, telling the truth would have been a mistake. I excused myself by saying that I had to go and walked at a brisk pace towards my parents.

With my heart beating as quickly as a rabbit’s, I reached my parents. They were just in the process of paying for the pretzels when me and my brother approached them. I explained what had just happened and they were just as surprised as me. Not only were they surprised about the man, but they were also surprised that I would leave the door unlocked. They told me to quickly run to the car and lock it. I sprinted as fast as I could until I saw the small red car. Hearing the “clink” of the lock, I sprinted back to my parents.

Leaving the car unlocked in a shady area has been one of the many stupid decisions that I’ve made. Fortunately, everything turned out fine but the car could have gotten stolen or damaged. After this incident I began to think about my actions more. Ever since this incident I have never once left a car without making sure that it is locked.