My family has been vacationing in a small beach front community in Rhode Island where my dad’s family has been coming since 1938. It’s a great little place where people have known each other for years and the kids are free to roam on their own without worry — not too different from 1938.

There’s a pond where they can play on the docks, a small bridge where they can crab, a rundown yacht club with ping pong tables and swing sets, a rocky beach for hunting for treasure, a little store with overpriced candy and small bumpy roads where cars can’t go faster than 20 miles an hour.

Needless to say, my older kids have been very independent since we arrived here. They head off to the beach ahead of us, meet friends in the evenings to play flashlight tag or to watch a movie on the beach and they wander at will if they get bored at home.

The other day, we arrived home from the beach and I was collecting towels for showers when it occurred to me that I hadn’t seen Adam’s bike in the garage. He left the beach a few minutes before us to head for home. I asked several times if anyone had seen Adam when a strange car pulled into the driveway. A man got out and as I approached the car, he mentioned that there had been a small bike accident. He rounded the car and let Adam out of the back seat.

Apparently, Adam had fallen off his bike in front of this man’s house. They heard the crash and rescued Adam from the street. They brought him in, cleaned him up and tried to call my cell phone. When I didn’t answer, they parked Adam’s bike in their yard and brought him home.

Where else on earth can your son go missing for just five minutes before a car pulls up and someone you’ve never met brings him home safe and sound. All the man had to say was: “I know you’d do the same for my child.”