I Bought a Used Car — Then Got a Creepy Call That Changed Everything
When I bought my secondhand car, it felt like a big win. Something I had done completely by myself.
I had just quit my high-paying but exhausting corporate job to follow my dream — writing my own collection of short stories. So, I didn’t want to waste my savings. I just needed something simple to get around.
That’s why I went with a used Toyota Corolla from a nearby dealership. Nothing fancy, just practical. The moment I drove it home, I felt proud.
This was a step toward my new life.
I never imagined that a small car would pull me into such a strange, unforgettable situation.
The next morning, while I was making coffee and rubbing the sleep from my eyes, my phone buzzed. The number was unknown.
Usually, I wouldn’t answer. But something about early morning calls always gets me nervous — what if it’s an emergency?
“Hello?” I said with a sleepy yawn.
“Hi… is this the new owner of the Toyota Corolla?” a man’s voice asked. He sounded anxious, like really stressed out.
“Yes, this is her,” I replied, now fully awake. “Who’s speaking?”
He let out a deep breath, like he’d been holding it in for too long.
“Oh, thank goodness! I’m so sorry to bother you, but I need your help,” he said quickly. “I was the previous owner of the car. I left something under the seat when I turned it in yesterday. You picked it up yesterday, right?”
“Yes…” I said slowly, feeling confused. What was he talking about?
“Okay. Good.” He paused again. “I really, really need to get what I left behind. It’s important. Urgent.”
“What exactly did you leave?” I asked, trying not to panic. I was imagining all sorts of crazy things.
“It’s something… alive,” he said. His voice cracked a little. “Please, ma’am. I need to come get it. I promise I’ll explain when I see you.”
Alive? That word echoed in my head like a fire alarm. What did he mean by “alive”? Was it a baby? A dog? Or something worse? My mind flew through wild possibilities: hidden drugs? An escaped pet? A prank?
I stayed quiet for a second, trying to think clearly.
He spoke again. “Do you want to meet me somewhere or give me your address?”
Every part of me was telling me to say no. I didn’t know this man. He could be dangerous. But… there was something about the urgency in his voice. He didn’t sound threatening — just desperate.
So, against all logic, I said, “Okay. There’s a park near my place. Meet me there. I’ll text you the location.”
He exhaled in relief. “That’s perfect. Don’t worry — it’s contained… for now.”
I ended the call and stared at my phone like it had just bitten me.
“Samira,” I said out loud to myself, “are you seriously doing this?”
But curiosity was burning in my chest.
What could possibly be alive under my car seat?
About twenty minutes later, I was standing next to my Corolla in the chilly morning air. My heart was beating way too fast. I kept glancing around the quiet neighborhood. Everyone else was inside, still having breakfast or just waking up.
Then, a beat-up old pickup truck pulled into the lot. It looked exactly like the one he had described in his text. A guy stepped out, scanning the area nervously until his eyes landed on me.
“I’m Ben,” he said, walking toward me. “Thanks for letting me come.”
He looked younger than I expected — probably around my age, late twenties. His dark hair was messy, and he had that half-dressed, slightly panicked look of someone who hadn’t slept.
Still, something about him felt… real.
“No problem,” I replied. “I’m Samira. So… what exactly did you leave under the seat?”
Instead of answering, he walked over to the car, opened the driver’s door, and dropped to his knees. I watched, tense, as he reached far under the seat with both hands.
And then he pulled out a small plastic container — with air holes punched in the lid.
My heart skipped a beat.
Air holes?! What in the world was inside?!
“I’m really sorry to bother you like this,” Ben said, standing up and holding the box carefully.
“What’s in there?” I asked, half scared, half curious.
“I have a pet gecko,” he said. “I feed him live insects. Yesterday I stopped by the pet store and picked up some mealworms and roaches. I must’ve forgotten the box under the seat when I unloaded everything else at home.”
It took me a second to process.
“You left a box of live insects in the car?” I asked, eyebrows raised.
“Not on purpose!” he said, looking embarrassed. “I was already late turning the car in. So I rushed out and forgot to double-check. I didn’t even realize until I got home.”
“You’re so lucky they didn’t escape,” I said, imagining roaches crawling across my feet while driving.
Suddenly, I started laughing. I couldn’t help it. Once I started, it was impossible to stop. The whole thing was just so weird and unexpected.
Ben looked surprised at first, but then he smiled — a genuine, sheepish grin.
“I know! It sounds ridiculous,” he said. “But I was freaking out all night. I couldn’t sleep. I just kept imagining them… crawling all over your car.”
“Oh my God,” I gasped, still laughing. “That would have been the grossest surprise of my life.”
Then, his expression softened.
“I’m really sorry, Samira,” he said. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I just didn’t know what else to do. The gecko — Samson — he’s actually my little brother’s. That kid is obsessed with him.”
That made me pause. He wasn’t just some careless guy — he was trying to protect his brother’s pet.
“No judgment here,” I said, smiling. “I had a pet frog for about two weeks when I was little. My mom nearly fainted when she found it hopping around my bed.”
We both burst into laughter again, this time louder and more comfortable.
Then Ben blurted out, “Let me make it up to you. How about I take you out for coffee? As an apology… for the whole bug situation?”
I blinked.
Was this really happening?
“I… um,” I said. “Sure. Why not?”
His whole face lit up. “Great! There’s a nice spot not far from here. Want to go now?”
I grinned. “How about we swing by a car wash first — just in case any of your creepy crawlies are still hiding in the vents?”
He laughed. “Actually, that’s the least I can do. Come on.”
He placed the bug box gently in the back of his truck and locked it up. I tossed him my car keys, which he caught like a pro.
As we drove to the car wash, he opened up more.
“My little brother lives with me,” Ben said. “There’s a big age gap between us. I’m basically his guardian now. His school is just two blocks away from my place.”
“That’s really sweet,” I said, watching him closely. “You sound like a good big brother.”
“I try,” he replied with a shrug. “He’s all I’ve got left.”
When we reached the car wash, Ben paid for the full package.
“Give her a deep clean, guys,” he said. “Make sure no bugs are left behind!”
We laughed again, and as we waited for the car to be washed, we grabbed coffee at a nearby café.
And honestly? It felt like the beginning of something I couldn’t have planned — not even in my wildest short stories.
What would you have done?
