I looked at him and he looked at me. We both had the exact same thought, and we both knew it. My stomach fell completely out of my body; someone had stolen the car.

I had started going out with Himey the year before. A mutual friend had introduced us and by the end of our first date we were reading each other’s minds. Though he was from Crandon, Himey had spent a lot of time in Madison, around the capital, and wanted to show it to me and the kids.

We headed south on a warm July day. We stopped in Westfield for lunch and decided to first take in a game of miniature golf. Himey, who plays regular golf, won hands down. I could easily have passed on keeping score all together. The kids had fun, though, so that was what really mattered.

At the end of the course we came around the corner of the Pioneer Golf office and Himey’s maroon Chrysler LeBaron was gone. We were 130 miles from home and didn’t know anyone living nearby. We had plans, we had hotel reservations. We just didn’t need his kind of hassle.

“What are we going to do?” we asked each other.

The kids were oblivious to our dilemma; they just wanted to eat lunch at McDonald’s. We walked out to the parking lot, heading towards the Golden Arches and there sat the car.

We had forgotten that when we first pulled in, we were planning on eating lunch. We had never parked next to the miniature golf place. Himey’s vehicle had been next to McDonald’s the whole time.