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The Cozy Old Ford

The doors to the nursing home closed behind them. Margaret and Diego made their way slowly towards their car, a medium-sized Ford in urgent need of a rest. The car was parked a short distance away, behind the high perimeter walls of the home, just outside of the main gates. The couple enjoyed working together; Diego was the all-round helper at the home, either in the garden or at times just moving furniture for residents and caregivers alike while Margaret assisted the cooks in the kitchen. They had been working together for almost thirty years and they were happy but today had been long and exhausting and they were now looking forward to a restful evening at home.

As they approached the gates they heard people talking. Instinctively, the couple quickened their steps and the voices, now louder, came from the direction where Diego had parked the Ford earlier that day.
Diego always parked the car in the shade, under the big branches of a large eucalyptus tree. It was like a ritual for him to entrust the old faithful Ford to the tree's leafy protection from the harsh rays of the summer sun. As a habit, he would wind down the rear windows, leaving them slightly ajar, to enable good air circulation in the vehicle. It pleased him to know that upon their return they wouldn't feel the blast of the trapped, hot, furnace-like air. Margaret appreciated Diego's close attention to these little details; she loved the way he looked after their cosy old Ford.
It was late and the air was much cooler. The light of dusk made it difficult to discriminate the shapes and shadows under the tree. A small group of people was milling around their car and one of them was looking underneath it holding on to something long like a stick or a broom handle.
Margaret turned to her husband, "Diego, what are they doing?"
Her words alarmed him. "I don't know dear, I can't see. We better go and find out," Diego replied, eagerly, attempting to hide his concern.
Diego was a quiet man who always tried to avoid situations that could place him in conflict with others but as he got closer to the group of people surrounding his car he feared that this was not going to be one of those occasions where he could just walk away.
They approached the group hoping that if they ignored them, the people would quickly disperse, quietly and without resistance.
"Excuse me," exclaimed Margaret as she cautiously weaved her way to the car door.
"Is this your car," a man asked, pointing to the Ford.
"Yes, it's

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