When I was a kid, I was walking home from a friend's house, and a guy in a pickup truck pulled up beside me and I asked if I wanted a ride. It was on a residential street in the city, and I freaked out, ran into the street behind the truck, and started running straight toward an oncoming car that was still at the other end of the block. The driver slammed on his brakes, that got him to slam on his brakes and watch me carefully to figure out what the fuck was happening, and that's what I was hoping he would do because I figured it would be unlikely that some random car coming up behind this truck was also a kidnapper.

The truck pulled away, and I ran home as fast as I could, running through alleys and between houses so I couldn't be chased. I get to the top of my street and see the fucking truck parked in front of my house. At this point, I'm freaking the fuck out, so I run to the alley behind my street, climb over the fence in my backyard, and go in the side door.

Turns out it was a close family friend who saw me walking, and since he lived a couple blocks up the street from my house, he offered me a ride. He just got a new truck, so I didn't recognize it, and since he talked to me out the passenger side window of a full size pickup truck, I couldn't see his face clearly. When I ran and he realized he freaked me the fuck, he quickly headed to my house to let my parents know what happened so they weren't mistakenly calling the cops to report that a stranger had tried to kidnap me or whatever.

That was a hell of a day.