They Thought Their Son Stole a Porsche—Until He Said He Bought It for $20 (2 of 3)

His mother’s jaw dropped. “Twenty dollars?! Who sells a Porsche for twenty dollars?!”

“The lady who just moved in at the end of the street,” he said, nonchalantly. “She ordered a pizza this afternoon. Gave me a tip, then asked if I wanted to buy a car.”

His parents didn’t even wait for the full explanation. Within minutes, they were marching down the street, fury in their steps and a thousand questions racing through their heads.

They found the woman kneeling in her flower bed, gently pressing petunias into the earth, her hair tied back, a smudge of soil across her cheek. She looked up with a calm smile as they approached.

“Hi there,” she said, brushing her hands off on her jeans. “Can I help you?”

The father stepped forward, trying to stay composed. “Yeah. I’m the dad of the kid you just sold a Porsche to. For twenty dollars. I think we deserve to know what’s going on.”

The woman sat back on her heels, took a breath, and glanced at the sports car parked in their driveway, glinting in the late afternoon sun.

“This morning,” she began, “I got a call from my husband. I thought he was in Florida on business. Turns out he was in Hawaii… with his secretary.” Her voice didn’t tremble, but her eyes held something tired—something resolved.

The boy’s mom blinked, confused. “I’m sorry… but how does that explain the Porsche?”

The woman stood up slowly, dusting off her hands. “Well, it was his new toy. He was so proud of it. He told me to sell it and wire him the money. I figured twenty bucks was generous.”