We used to go down the road to the local 31 Flavors quite a bit as a family when I was growing up. There was a part of the shopping center right next to it where my grandpa and I would "play alley" which was basically just him sitting there while I played. Once, my dad was trying to pull into a parking spot there and someone cut him off and took the space before he had a chance to park. My dad, normally a pretty passive dude, cussed up a storm (his usual stream of Goddamn, sonofabitch and whatnot) and actually took off his seat belt like he was going to jump out of the car and beat that person's ass. If I recall correctly, that person ended up backing out and giving my dad the spot. But that's not the memory I had, I'm just talking about things that happened at the 31 Flavors.
This particular memory was of us driving out of our neighborhood to get some ice cream and seeing this lone black kid just sort of walking down our street. We noticed that he was being followed by a group of Mexican kids and something just seemed not right. All of a sudden, that black kid just kind of took off running, looking pretty spooked. My dad told us kids to hang on and we pulled up next to him, threw the door open and told him to jump in the car. Once he was in, my dad screeched the tires and burned rubber right out of there. We took him with us to the 31 Flavors, sort of against his will because my dad wanted to make sure when we took him back that the coast would be clear and he wouldn't be harassed.
All of this seems kind of awesome and heroic, right? But now that I think of it, I think we kind of kidnapped that black kid.