My childhood fear. In my little 80's mind, as I played freely blocks away and in open fields, I had a sense of security. I know I would scream and kick the nuts of anyone who would ever try to steal me. Though once Kidnapper Ken and his gang realized the loudmouth they were dealing with, I would have been quickly dumped on the side of the road like a watered down slurpee.
I had the scenario in my head, and that was that I could spot a kidnapper a mile away. After all, they would be driving the Kidnapper Van. A van from the seventies, with rust spots and no windows. If it happened to be luxurious, it would have windows, but tinted ones. It would be white, or blue, maybe with P. Piper Plumbing on the side as a decoy, but smart kids like me would Go-Go Gadget inspect it and know it was a false business. It would creak up and down the street, and leak oil, while a leathery man with rat nasty facial hair would stare out the window at us neighborhood kidlets, like he was picking out a fancy watch. Lucky for me, no such van ever made it's way on my street, but by golly, I knew a kidnapper mobile when I saw one.
One time, my friend and I were about 15, walking from the store to her house. We were talking about boys, school, boys and food. and boys. I heard the sound that made my innards cringe, and turned around to see.... THE KIDNAPPER VAN. The one that has haunted my childhood, the one that for sure was going to take me away. It was white, long, old, no windows and dirty as a mud wrestler working on a railroad, which is, of course, extremely dirty. I told her run, and we ran, as fast as we could, up the hill, adrenalin pumping, sweating and puffing away. The van followed us and we slid around the corner and a few houses down to her house. The van parked up at the neighbors and they got out. They probably wondered just what kind of swarm of bees stung us on the butt, we ran that fast. All because of the Kidnapper Van. True story.
Today, on a walk, I pointed out to the hubby, "Oh, that is a total kidnapper van." It met all the criteria: pale blue, seventies, the brokest looking car ever, tinted windows.
At least I know I am not the only kid who feared the Kidnapper Van.