I have a childhood memory that is as vivid today as it was the day I experienced it over 60 years ago. My mother thought it would be a good idea for her six-year-old son to participate in a tumbling class at a local elementary school. Get some exercise, socialize with other kids, all that good stuff. (I can even remember the school’s name, day of the week, and the weather.) I never liked organized activities as a kid, including later Cub Scouts and Boy Scouts, but agreed to give it a try.

As I recall, it was sunny winter day. After the class, my mother was late so I waited by the curb trying to stay warm. Suddenly, a van pulled up and the driver opened the passenger door. He down looked at me with a creepy smile and offered me a ride. To sweeten the deal, he said I could sit in the front seat. (US kids love sitting in the front seat.) I instinctively remembered my mother’s sage advice, dispensed by millions of parents of her generation: Don’t accept a ride from a stranger. I looked up at him, said “No,” and walked away. What could have resulted in a traumatic experience or worse became a strange and lingering memory.

MAA