I’m leaving the District when two dudes (and they could only be described as dudes) in a maroon SUV flag me down. Worried something is wrong with my car, I roll down my window. “Hey, do you want a free stereo?” asks one. A box of indeterminate nature lies in the back seat. “Um, no thanks,” I say. He holds up a packing slip, flimsy proof that it isn’t stolen. “I already have a stereo,” I say. “Yeah, but does it have an alarm that plays music when it goes off?” I also have an alarm. The dude looks across the lot and sees other potential suckers, and drives off.