On Sunday nights, I take my beloved mother out to dinner. Tonight's place was packed. When we left, the parking lot was full. The car next to mine had its lights on.
“Wait for me a second,” I said to my mother after she got into the car. “I’m going to tell them their lights are on.”
“Tell who?” she asked. “You don’t know whose car it is.”
“It’s the Russian guys who took the table next to ours. Trust me.” I went back in with a grin.
“Excuse me, but do you gentlemen drive a white minivan?” They nodded. “Your lights are on.”
The oldest of them ran out ahead of me and turned off the lights. He went back inside just as quickly, after saying thank you but without asking me how I knew it was theirs. My mother was more curious. As I backed out of the parking space, I pointed to the license plate. 4CCCP.
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