No Harm Done
The minute things began to sour in Miami, we took what money we could lay our hands on and headed north in a Buick Skylark. Nice car, nice interior. Not new, but fully loaded. After three days and fifteen-hundred miles Rollo felt it best we ditch the car. We'd pushed our luck long enough and had run out of money for gas anyhow. So around midnight we pulled off the highway, parked in the lot of a veterinarian's office, in a handicapped spot with a sign that said unauthorized vehicles will be towed at owner's expense. We didn't know who the Skylark's owner was, but Rollo said the police would find him or her, and the insurance company would happily foot the bill for the return of the vehicle. So, all together, no harm done.
Before we abandoned her we wiped the interior clean and locked her up because we didn't know the neighborhood, or the kind of people, or where on earth we'd landed, and then we just started walking.