When I was a kid, there was a man in my neighborhood who used to offer me rides home from school. He was "The Ice Cream Truck Driver" who was supposed to be there for the kids.

I was a kid about 8 years old, and recently moved in with my grandparents when my mom died. I was new to the neighborhood, and very excited to start my new school. I didn't know then, but my grandpa had spoken to the other parents in the neighborhood and coordinated ride arrangements for me after school so I wouldn't have to walk alone at night. Every day after school, I would walk to the corner about a block from the school, where a red van would always be parked, and one of the dad's (I don't remember his name) would pick me up and drive me home. <br><br>The first year I lived there, life was good, and I loved it there. Then one summer something started to change. The dad in the red van stopped picking me up. I would wait on the corner for him, and get more and more nervous as it got dark. On the corner a block from the school was a small ice cream truck that sat on the corner, at the same time I was waiting for the dad to pick me up. The driver was an older man, about in his 50's, partially bald, and very skinny. He had a wife who sometimes sat in the cab of the truck with him, and his name was "Mr. Thompson." He would often try to talk to me while I waited for my ride, and he was at first a nice guy, who I think was bored and wanted to chat with someone. The first time he talked to me was when I was waiting for the dad in the red van to pick me up. He had pulled up behind my corner and was honking his horn for a few minutes. He got out of the van and approached me, and asked why I was sitting on the corner. I told him I was waiting for my ride, and he looked at "Mr. Thompson's" ice cream truck, and asked to speak to him for a minute. He went up to the truck, and told Mr. Thompson that I was a kid he had agreed to drive home, and that he shouldn't talk to me. He told Mr. Thompson that I wasn't to ever ride in his truck, and if I ever did, he would call the police on him. <br><br>This happened over the summer, and by the time school started, the dad in the red van had moved away, and didn't tell anyone he was moving or stop picking me up. I would still go to the same corner, and wait for him to pick me up. Mr. Thompson would try to talk to me every day, while I waited. He would invite me into his ice cream truck to pick out a free popsicle, and one day, I finally said yes. He drove me down the street a block or two, to a little park, and parked the truck. We got out of the truck, and went to a table in the park. He sat down across from me, and pulled down his pants, and started masturbating. I was in shock for a second, then I jumped up and ran as fast as I could back to the corner where I was picked up, and never went back to that corner at that time again. <br><br>When I got home, I told my grandpa what had happened, and he immediately went to Mr. Thompson's house, and confronted him. He didn't believe me at first, then he got very angry, and went to the police and reported it to them. When we went to the police station and filed a report, several other parents were there, who had also had similar encounters with Mr. Thompson, who had offered them rides and abuse. Mr. Thompson was arrested, and convicted of several counts of molestation, and went to prison. To this day, I feel like I owe the dad in the red van a huge thank you.