A new disturbing scam that takes advantage of the generosity of strangers has emerged, and one mother, Nancy Walsh, is sharing a warning that could sаvе you from getting yourself into trouble.
Her urgent message reads: “If you see a stroller, car seat, or any type of baby situation alone in the middle of nowhere, please, I repeat, don’t get out. Be safe.”
Of course, when noticing any baby equipment on the side of a road, our initial reaction would be to get out of the car and make sure no baby or child is in trouble.
Walsh, an estate agent, encountered this potentially alarming scene that might raise concern for individuals traveling alone.
She posted photos of an аbаndоned stroller positioned on the side of a country road. Her car appeared to be the sole vehicle in the area, and her headlights illuminated the pram, which was oriented away from her direction of travel, making it impossible to determine if there was anything inside it.
The stroller was positioned on a grassy verge adjacent to the road, which was flanked by large trees on one side. This kind of scenario might be particularly unsettling due to the isolated setting and the mysteries associated with the аbаndоned stroller.
According to Walsh, and plenty of other social media users, this is a trap. “Never get out. Always call 911 and let local authorities investigate,” one person wrote. “Yes, people lie in wait. At best they rob you, at worst they bash you too,” another added. “Families are struggling, some of them will use kids as bait,” some else commented.
This alleged scam is done in order for a person to get out of their vehicle and leave it unattended while they check on the stroller. The scammers then steal the vehicle, rob the person, or even hurt him physically.
However, there were also those who commented under Walsh’s post and said that some people leave baby stuff at the side of the road because they are still usable and they don’t want to throw them as someone might find them useful.
But most of them agreed that the reason behind these аbаndоned strollers is sinister. “Someone may have put it on for when someone gets off [the road] to see what happens…,” a person wrote. Another agreed, adding: “It’s a bait trap. don’t get out. Pull over. STAY IN THE CAR. Lock the door. And call 911 FAST.”
Walsh’s warning isn’t the first one issued on the same matter.
“OMG – I would be out of the car so fast to check, thanks for the warning,” one mother commented. “This is so cruel because they are targeting the best of us,” another person who said they would certainly get out and check if there was a child in dаngеr added.
The ‘аbаndоned baby’ scam is a troubling part of a broader trend of deceptive practices aimed at exploiting the goodwill of kind-hearted individuals. Other similar scams involve a person feigns being passed out on the roadside while others wait in ambush to аttасk those who offer help.
Some people shаrеd their personal experiences with such scams. “I pulled over to help a man passed out on the side of the road once. The police officer yelled at me and said it is often a scam and as a single woman I should be more careful,” one social media user posted. “I have heard of women screaming for help only to do the same thing. Just call the cops and move on,” another person warned.
Walsh’s post gathered plenty of attention and has been shаrеd 23,000 times.
No matter the urge to provide help to those we believe are in some sort of trouble, we should always be extra cautious and make sure we don’t put our own lives at risk.
My Friend Kicked Me Out of His Wedding, His Reason Stunned Me
So, I sold it. The buyer, Ben, seemed like a good guy—enthusiastic about fixing up the place. We shook hands, and just like that, the house, along with its memories, was no longer mine.
A week later, I received a letter via courier. To my surprise, it was in my grandfather’s handwriting. The paper was yellowed with age, as if it had been sitting, waiting for the right moment to be delivered. My hands shook as I opened it. The message was simple but intriguing: “Check the basement of the house.”
Without wasting time, I called Ben. “Hey, it’s Alex. I need to come by the house—there’s something I need to check in the basement.”
Ben, a little puzzled but still friendly, replied, “Sure, come over. The basement’s just as you left it.”
When I arrived, I barely recognized the house. Ben had already started making improvements. The yard was cleared, and the house had a fresh coat of paint. He greeted me at the door, and we headed straight to the basement. It was still dimly lit and musty, filled with cobwebs and old furniture. Ben watched me search, amused but curious.
“You sure your grandfather wasn’t just messing with you?” he joked.
I was beginning to wonder the same thing. But then, I noticed a loose brick in the wall. Behind it was a small, dusty box containing old letters and a key. Ben peered over my shoulder. “What do you think that key unlocks?” he asked.
“I’m not sure,” I replied. But I had a feeling it was important. After thanking Ben, I took the box and key home, determined to figure out the mystery.
The next day, I returned to the house with a plan. As Ben opened the door, surprised to see me again, I made a bold offer. “Ben, I’d like to buy the house back.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Really? I thought you said it was a burden.”
Taking a deep breath, I explained. “At first, I thought selling was the right choice. But after receiving my grandfather’s letter, I’ve realized this house means more than I ever thought. It’s not just a building; it’s part of my family’s history, a legacy I need to preserve. I can’t let it go.”
Ben considered for a moment. “Well, I’ve already put in a lot of work. You’d have to offer more than what you sold it for.”
I knew this wouldn’t be easy. “How about five grand more?”
Ben shook his head. “Not enough. The market’s good, and I could sell it for a profit. How about twenty grand more?”
My heart sank. Twenty grand was a lot. But I couldn’t lose the house now. “Deal,” I said, though it hurt to agree.
Over the next week, I finalized the paperwork to buy the house back. During this time, I met Clara, a local historian with a passion for old homes. Over coffee, I shared the story of my grandfather’s house, and she was instantly intrigued.
“Your grandfather sounds incredible,” Clara said. “If you ever need help restoring the house or researching its history, I’d love to assist.”
I gratefully accepted her offer. Clara’s enthusiasm breathed new life into my project. Together, we spent hours sifting through old documents, photos, and memories, piecing together the story of the house and its significance.
Finally, with the house back in my name, I returned to the basement, key in hand. Moving aside an old wardrobe, I discovered a hidden door. The key fit perfectly. Behind the door was a small room, and in the center was a modest chest. My heart raced as I opened it, expecting treasure.
Instead, I found a letter in my grandfather’s familiar handwriting and an old poker chip.
The letter read: “I knew you would sell the house, you fool! I always taught you to honor your ancestors and remember your roots. Yet, you sold it off without a second thought. Let this be a lesson to you.”
At the bottom, in a playful tone, it said: “P.S. I put something in here, so here’s an old poker chip—worthless! Consider it a lucky charm.”
I sat there, the letter in hand, disappointed at first, but then understanding hit me. My grandfather, ever the trickster, had orchestrated this whole experience to teach me a valuable lesson. The house wasn’t just about property or money—it was about honoring the past and valuing what truly matters.
With a renewed sense of purpose, I decided to keep the house and turn it into a family retreat. What I once saw as a burden now felt like a treasure—a connection to my roots and a place where future memories would be made.
Over the months that followed, the house underwent a transformation. With Clara’s help, I restored it, blending its old charm with fresh beginnings. The house, once dilapidated, became a place of laughter and love—a symbol of family heritage.
As the final touches were added, Clara and I grew closer, spending more and more time together. The house wasn’t just a part of my past anymore—it had become a symbol of our future, a place filled with love, memories, and the lessons my grandfather had so cleverly imparted.
In the end, my grandfather had left me far more than a house. He’d left me a legacy, a lesson about family, roots, and the importance of holding on to the things that truly matter.
Leave a Reply