Richard visits his daughter to celebrate his eightieth birthday with her, but she answers the door in tears and sends him away. Richard suspects trouble and realizes he’s right after peeking through her front windows.Richard tapped his fingers nervously against the steering wheel as he drove. Deidre used to drive down every Thanksgiving, but that stopped after his wife’s funeral four years ago. Now, there were only weekly calls. Richard spread his arms wide as Deidre appeared in the doorway. “Surprise!” he yelled. “Dad? What are you doing here?” she asked, tears rolling down her cheeks.
“I came to celebrate my birthday with you…it’s the big eight-o!” Richard replied, but the joy in his voice trailed off quickly. “What’s wrong, honey? Why are you crying?””It’s nothing; everything’s fine,” Deidre quickly wiped her tears and smiled a little. “I just…I wasn’t expecting you, and this isn’t really a good time. Sorry, Dad, but I, uh, need to focus. On my work. Look, I’ll call you. We’ll have dinner later, okay? Sorry.”Deidre shut the door, leaving Richard hurt and confused. Something was terribly wrong. Was Deidre in trouble? Richard stepped back from the front door but didn’t leave. He stepped over the short, flowering shrubs lining the path and snuck up to peek through the windows. Two rough-looking men were in the sitting room with Deidre. “Who was that?” One of them asked in a rough voice. “Nobody,” Deidre lied in a shaky voice. “Just a neighbor’s kid…pulling a doorbell prank and running away.” “Back to business then,” the second man said. “You’re now six months behind on your loan repayments, Deidre. Mr. Marco’s getting impatient.””I just need more time. Business is sure to pick up again in the winter,” she pleaded. “Time is one thing you haven’t got, sweetie,” the man replied, pulling out his gun. “People who owe Mr. Marco money don’t have a great life expectancy and end up feeding the fishes in the lake…” He pointed the weapon at her. Terror froze Richard in place. But soon, the man stepped back with a look of disgust and tucked the gun away in the waistband of his trousers. “Look around this dump and see if there’s anything valuable we can take to Mr. Marco, Danny,” he ordered. “She’s a businesswoman, so there must be a computer or some kind of equipment around here.” ”But I need those things!” she cried. “I can’t make money without my equipment!” The man patted the butt of his gun. ”Boo-Hoo. I can still change my mind, you know. Don’t be ungrateful, now.”The men ransacked her home before they stormed out, leaving Deidre curled up sobbing on the floor. Nothing made sense to Richard because Deidre’s business was doing well. At least that’s what she had told him. But now, Richard could sense something was amiss. Deidre needed his help. The men loaded several appliances from Deidre’s home in their vehicle. When they finally drove away, Richard followed them. The men stopped at a two-storeyed brick building downtown that looked like a bar. While it was closed, the door was unlocked. No one on the staff stopped Richard as he entered the building. The men had joined a large table where several other rough-looking men were seated. One of them stood and swaggered toward him. “The club’s closed,” he growled. “Come back later.” “I’m here to discuss Deidre’s debt,” Richard announced.”Oh?” The man seated at the head of the table rose and stared at Richard. He looked like a gentleman except for a nasty scar above his left eye. Richard guessed he was Mr. Marco. ”How much does she owe you?” Richard asked. Mr. Marco smirked. “A good samaritan, huh? Deidre took out a business loan of $80,000 from me. She was supposed to pay me back from her monthly profits, only she never made any.” ”I have around $20,000 in my savings,” Richard gulped fearfully, shaken Deidre had borrowed such a big sum. ”That’s only a quarter of what she owes us.” Mr. Marco sighed. “But there’s something you can do to make up the difference.” Richard didn’t like the sound of that, but he had to do whatever it took to save his daughter from the mess she’d gotten herself into. ”What do you want me to do?” he asked.Mr. Marco grinned at Richard and beckoned him closer to the table. ”My partner and I recently started a small business importing cars to Canada, but some of the paperwork has been delayed, so we’re having difficulties getting the…’merchandise’…across the border. A kind, innocent-looking Grandpa like you should have no trouble crossing the border in one of our cars.” Richard had no choice but to agree. Later that night, he pulled into a gas station near the border town to use the bathroom and parked beside a patrol. “Jesus!” he gasped as the German Shepherd in the back of the police cruiser began barking at him and pawing at the window. Service dogs were trained not to bark at random people unless…Oh, man. He quickly climbed back in the car, a Valiant, and started reversing as the police dog went crazy. Two cops hurried out of the gas station store and yelled at him to stop as they glanced at him. The GPS app voiced directions, but Richard shoved it in his pocket to silence the darn thing. He pushed the Valiant to its limits as he wove through traffic, leaving a trail of outraged drivers and narrowly avoided collisions in his wake. The sirens blared behind him.Richard soon spotted a narrow, unmarked dirt road veering into the forest ahead. He sharply turned, leaving the road behind him as he raced into the forest. The muddy trails were awful to navigate, but Richard pushed on. He turned down a narrow track leading downhill. Then, he turned up a slight rise and instantly regretted it. The car was now stuck in a precarious position, balanced on a narrow rise above a wide river. Richard tried to reverse back the way he came, but the tires spun without getting traction. In fact, the car was sliding closer to the water. “No!” Richard desperately pulled up the parking brake, but it didn’t work.The car’s nose hit the river with a loud splash, sending a wave of dark water flooding over the bonnet. Richard shoved the car door open, desperate to escape the sinking vehicle. The pressure from the water started to push the car door shut against Richard’s legs. Richard splashed around in panic as the river filled the interior.As the water level crept up his face, he tipped his head back, took one last breath, and pulled himself underwater. Richard squeezed himself out of the opening and pushed himself up toward the surface. He took in a lungful of air and swam toward the river bank. Reaching land made Richard realize how close he was to death. He was thankfully breathing. But he still needed to do something about the $80,000. So Richard hitchhiked home.”I need to mortgage my house,” he told the bank assistant. ”And I need the cash in my bank account fast.” Richard waited impatiently as the bank employee processed the paperwork. He jumped in fright when Deidre called him. “Some thugs from a local gang were just here asking about you, Dad…what is happening?” “Tell them I’ll be there soon. I arranged to pay off your debt for you. I don’t understand why you didn’t come to me first, Deidre, but this isn’t the time to discuss that.”Richard ended the call and signed the paperwork. He didn’t want to give up the home where he had created memories with his family, but it was the only way to help Deidre.A few hours later, he pulled into the club’s parking lot in a rented car and headed toward the entrance. ”Dad, wait!” Richard looked back as Deidre ran toward him. ”I won’t let you face those thugs alone,” she said. ”I still don’t understand how you found out about this mess or how you got the money to repay them, but the least I can do is stand by you while you save me.” Richard studied the determined look in Deidre’s eyes and knew he couldn’t convince her to leave. As they entered the club, the thugs herded him and Deidre toward the table. Richard placed his duffel bag, which contained the cash he’d withdrawn after the mortgage went through, and put it on the table. ”Here’s the $80,000 Deidre owed you plus another $15,000 to cover the cost of your car. I, uh, got into some trouble, and the car ended up in a river.”Mr. Marco’s mouth twisted angrily, and he thumped his fist against the table. “You have the audacity to offer me a measly $15,000? After you come in here and tell me you sank the $100,000 shipment hidden in that car?
That doesn’t even BEGIN to cover what you now owe me.” The gangster grabbed the duffel bag and threw it to one of his thugs. ”You know, Deidre, I really believed in you, but sometimes, in business, you’ve got to know when to cut your losses.” He removed a gun from his suit jacket and pointed it straight at Deidre’s forehead. Richard pulled Deidre behind him. “No, please! This is all my fault! Don’t punish her!” ”Well, you made a good point.” The gangster shrugged, and the next moment, Richard was staring down the gun barrel.But suddenly, they heard police sirens outside. Mr. Marco turned and ran toward the back of the club as loud gunfire boomed and shook the place. Father and daughter crawled under the table. There was chaos in the club, and as Richard looked into his daughter’s fear-filled eyes, he knew he had to get her to safety, no matter what. Richard and Deidre pulled one of the tables over and barricaded themselves in a corner. They hid there until the police escorted them to safety. Thankfully, Mr. Marco was apprehended. ”Are you certain you don’t have any heart-related health issues?” Richard shook his head at the paramedic while in the ambulance. Richard swallowed hard when the police detective approached the ambulance.”Sir, what were you and your daughter doing in this club today?” the detective asked sternly. Richard explained about Deidre’s loan and how they’d come to the club that day to repay it. He hoped he might get away with not mentioning the car he sank in the river. The detective glanced at Deidre. “If we hadn’t found a car full of contraband in the river, we wouldn’t have been here to rescue you. You shouldn’t be taking loans from such disreputable people, miss.” “A car in the river?” Richard asked nervously. “It was registered to Mr. Marco’s cousin, which was exactly the lede we needed to take this gang down,” replied the officer.Richard sighed in relief. He was in the clear. The cops let him and Deidre go once they provided their statements. ”I owe you a huge apology, Dad. I dragged you into this whole mess,” Deidre apologized as they walked to the front, where Richard’s car was parked. Tears filled her eyes. “I didn’t know how to tell you. How does anyone tell their father that they’re a huge failure?” “You are not a failure!” Richard put his hands on Deidre’s shoulders. ”Maybe your business idea didn’t work out as well as you’d hoped, but you tried, Deidre. I wish you’d felt comfortable enough to tell me what was really going on in your life. Heck, I just wish you felt you could be as close with me as you were with your mother,” he continued. ”I don’t think you’ve been ‘fine’ for quite a while now.” Deidre burst into tears, and Richard put an arm around her. “It’s okay, honey,” he whispered soothingly. “Everything’s going to be okay.”Tell us what you think about this story, and share it with your friends. It might brighten their day and inspire them.
Grumpy Loner Finds a Teen Trying to Jack His Car and It Ends Up Changing Both Their Lives — Story of the Day
All old Harold cared about in his remaining years were his car and his privacy, but both now seemed at risk after new Asian neighbors moved in. One night, he caught a teenage boy trying to open his car, and from that moment, his solitary life changed forever.
Harold sat on his creaky porch, the paint peeling from the wooden railing, his scowl as deep as the furrows in his weathered face.
The late afternoon sun glared down, reflecting off the hood of his 1970 Plymouth Barracuda, making its cherry-red paint glow like embers.
The car had been his pride and joy for decades, a tangible reminder of his younger, more vibrant days.
But today, Harold wasn’t basking in nostalgia. His gaze was fixed on the commotion across the street.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
His new neighbors—a bustling Asian family—were unloading boxes from a moving truck.
Kids dashed around the driveway, shrieking and laughing, while a dog yapped incessantly.
A grandmother in a wide-brimmed hat waved instructions in a language Harold didn’t understand.
“Can’t they do anything quietly?” Harold muttered, his words a growl as he took a bitter sip of his lukewarm coffee.
Needing an escape, Harold pushed himself up from the chair, wincing as his stiff knees protested.
He shuffled toward his garage, muttering under his breath about the state of the world. Starting the Barracuda, he reversed it onto the driveway with a low, throaty rumble.
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He knew the engine’s growl was loud enough to turn heads, and that’s exactly what he wanted.
As he began unwinding the hose to wash his car, a voice called out, breaking his solitude.
“Wow! Is that a ‘70 Barracuda?”
Harold turned, startled to see a skinny teenage boy standing near the curb.
The boy’s eyes sparkled with curiosity, and his face was lit with the kind of awe Harold hadn’t seen in years.
“Yeah, it is,” Harold said curtly, already regretting engaging.
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“Does it have the 440 engine? A Six Pack?” the boy asked, stepping closer, his excitement bubbling over. “How’d you keep it in such good shape? I mean, it’s pristine!”
Harold grunted, turning his attention back to the car.
“It’s just maintenance,” he said flatly, hoping the boy would take the hint and leave.
But the boy, introducing himself as Ben, didn’t. He kept firing questions, his enthusiasm unrelenting.
He asked about the car’s history, its restoration, and its performance. Harold’s responses grew shorter, his patience wearing thinner with each passing second.
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“Kid, don’t you have something better to do?” Harold snapped, narrowing his eyes at the boy.
Ben hesitated, his smile fading slightly.
“I just really love classic cars,” he said softly. “My dad used to—”
“Enough!” Harold barked, turning to face him fully. “Go home and leave me alone!”
Ben’s shoulders slumped, and he muttered, “Sorry, sir,” before shuffling away.
Harold shook his head and turned back to his car, scrubbing harder than necessary.
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But as much as he tried, he couldn’t quite shake the image of the boy’s hopeful face. It lingered like a faint echo, reminding him of something he couldn’t quite name.
Harold was jolted awake by the unmistakable sound of clanging metal. It wasn’t subtle—it was the kind of noise that didn’t belong in the stillness of the night.
His eyes snapped open, and for a moment, he lay there, listening.
Then, with a groan, he reached for the baseball bat leaning against his nightstand.
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His heart pounded as he slipped on his slippers and shuffled toward the garage, the cold night air prickling his skin.
He paused at the garage door, holding his breath as he heard muffled voices and the distinct rustling of tools. Gritting his teeth, Harold flipped on the light.
“Hey! Get outta here!” he roared, his voice slicing through the chaos.
Three teenage boys froze like deer caught in headlights.
One was hunched over the steering wheel of his prized Barracuda, while another rifled through his neatly organized tools.
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The third stood near the hood, his face partially obscured by the shadow of his hoodie.
The two boys closest to the car bolted without a word, vanishing into the darkness. Harold barely noticed.
His eyes locked onto the third boy, who had slipped on an oil patch and fallen hard onto the concrete floor.
“Not so fast,” Harold growled, marching over and grabbing the boy’s arm. He hauled him to his feet, and the boy’s hood fell back, revealing a familiar face.
“Ben?” Harold’s voice was incredulous and angry all at once.
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“Please, sir,” Ben stammered, his face pale and his hands shaking. “I didn’t mean to—I was—”
“Save it,” Harold snapped, his grip firm. “You’re coming with me.”
Still clutching Ben’s arm, Harold marched him across the street and banged loudly on the door of the boy’s house.
After a moment, the door creaked open, and Ben’s parents appeared, their faces groggy and confused.
“They don’t speak much English,” Ben mumbled, his eyes glued to the floor.
“Then you’re going to tell them exactly what you did,” Harold said, his voice cold and commanding.
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Ben hesitated, then began translating, his voice trembling as he explained what had happened.
His parents’ faces fell, their expressions a mix of shame and dismay.
Bowing repeatedly, they murmured apologetic phrases in their native language, their gestures sincere.
Harold let go of Ben, pointing a finger at the boy. “Next time, I won’t hesitate to call the cops. Got it?”
“Yes, sir,” Ben murmured, his head bowed low.
Harold turned and stomped back to his house, his adrenaline slowly fading. He collapsed into his armchair, staring at the car keys he had left on the table.
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The image of Ben’s pale, terrified face lingered in his mind, unsettling him. Somehow, his anger didn’t feel as satisfying as it should have.
The next morning, Harold was startled from his coffee by the sound of clinking metal on his porch.
Grumbling, he got up and opened the door to a surprising sight: Ben’s grandmother and mother, both balancing trays of steaming food, carefully arranging them on the steps.
“What’s all this?” Harold asked, his tone sharp.
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“Listen, I don’t need—what’s all this for?”
The women looked up at him nervously, bowing their heads slightly. Their smiles were polite but hesitant, and they didn’t say a word.
Harold waved his hands awkwardly, trying to shoo them away.
“It’s fine. You don’t need to do this,” he sputtered.
They continued their work undeterred, gesturing to the trays with small, encouraging nods. Harold sighed, stepping aside and muttering under his breath, “No one listens anymore.”
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As they finished and disappeared back across the street, Ben appeared, shuffling up to the porch with his head low.
His face was flushed, and he avoided Harold’s gaze. Suddenly, he knelt down, bowing deeply.
“I’m sorry for what I did,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll do anything to make it up to you.”
Harold crossed his arms, his scowl deepening, but his voice lacked its usual edge. “Kid, get up. You don’t have to do this.”
Ben didn’t move. “Please,” he insisted. “Let me fix this.”
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Harold sighed heavily. “Fine. Wash the car. And don’t scratch it.”
As Harold returned inside, he eyed the trays of food warily before sitting down to pick at the unfamiliar dishes.
Through the window, he watched Ben working diligently on the Barracuda, the boy’s careful movements a stark contrast to the chaos of the night before.
After some time, Harold stepped back outside. “You did a decent job,” he admitted gruffly. “For a guy who tried to get into it last night.”
“Thanks,” Ben replied, drying his hands on a rag. He hesitated before speaking again.
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“The truth is… those guys made me do it. They said I’d be a coward if I didn’t help. They knew I know a lot about cars.”
Harold frowned. “Why didn’t you tell your parents that?”
Ben shrugged, looking down.
“It’s hard enough being new here. If I snitched, people would make fun of my sister. She’s finally starting to fit in.”
Harold studied him, his face softening.
“You’re a good kid, Ben. You just have bad taste in friends.”
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Ben nodded, finishing the job. As Harold watched him clean up, he surprised himself by saying, “Come on in. Let’s eat before all this food gets cold.”
Ben’s eyes widened slightly, but he smiled. “Thanks, sir.”
Harold waved him inside, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips.
That evening, he sat in his recliner, a cup of tea cooling on the side table. The soft hum of crickets filled the air, but a commotion outside drew his attention.
He leaned toward the window, pulling the curtain aside, and his sharp eyes spotted Ben down the street.
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The boy was backed against a fence by the same two teens who had fled Harold’s garage that night.
Harold squinted, his knuckles tightening on the curtain. The taller of the two boys jabbed a finger at Ben, his voice carrying through the quiet.
“We’re not taking the fall for this! You better fix it.”
Ben’s shoulders slumped as he hesitated, then reluctantly handed over a set of keys. He pointed toward Harold’s garage, his expression filled with shame.
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The two teens grinned, their laughter cutting through the stillness as they swaggered toward the garage.
Harold’s lips pressed into a thin line as he grabbed his jacket and headed outside.
Staying hidden in the shadows, he waited until the boys disappeared inside his garage.
Then, with a deliberate stride, he approached the building, flanked by a police officer he’d called earlier.
“Evening, boys,” Harold said coolly, flipping on the garage lights.
The two teens froze, their grins vanishing as the officer stepped forward. “Hands where I can see them,” the officer commanded.
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The boys stammered, their bravado crumbling as they were cuffed and led toward the patrol car.
Ben stood nearby, watching the scene with a conflicted expression. Harold approached him, his voice steady but firm.
“You did the right thing, kid,” he said. “Criminals need to learn their lessons early. Better they fix their lives now than ruin them later.”
Ben nodded, a look of relief washing over his face. “I wasn’t sure if…” He trailed off, searching Harold’s face.
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Harold patted Ben’s shoulder, his touch surprisingly gentle.
“You’ve got a good head on your shoulders. I could use someone like you to help me with the car. You interested?”
Ben’s eyes widened in surprise. “Really?”
“Yeah, but don’t let it go to your head,” Harold said with a smirk.
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“And maybe, if you prove yourself, this car could be yours one day.”
Ben’s grin spread wide, and for the first time in years, Harold felt a flicker of pride he thought he’d never feel again.
Together, they walked back to the house, the night quieter than it had been in years.
Tell us what you think about this story, and share it with your friends. It might inspire them and brighten their day.
If you enjoyed this story, read this one: “Perfect neighbor”—that was Julia’s dream title. She wanted to be a role model for other women in the community. Imagine her face when she saw her mother ride a Harley-Davidson into the driveway. Pure embarrassment nearly drove Julia to the point of kicking her mother out, but the truth stopped her.
This piece is inspired by stories from the everyday lives of our readers and written by a professional writer. Any resemblance to actual names or locations is purely coincidental. All images are for illustration purposes only. Share your story with us; maybe it will change someone’s life.
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