The Molo Van

As a teen working at the mall, my mom warned me about the molester van. You know the kind- the windowless vans that you never, ever park next to, unless you want to get snatched up by a molester/ rapist hiding in the back.  Before I was able to start working, I had to promise I would make someone walk me to my car every night when it was dark (sorry mom, I never asked to have another employee walk me outside at 7pm), lock my doors as soon as I got in the car, and never go to anyone’s car to help them even if they are in a cast.

Fast forward 2010, E and I are at the grocery store. E is about to park, when I yell out, “no don’t park here, not next to that molester van!” E, being a boy, had never heard of the dangers of parking next to a molester van and laughed hysterically. He politely did not park next to said van though.

He shortened it to “molo van” so that we can point them out loudly in public.

Today, I realize the many practical uses of a molo van:

1. Napping. Friday morning, I have to drive the cats to Richmond super early and wait for them to be anesthetized, have their teeth cleaned, and wake up. This takes a long ass time. I would like to nap while I wait, but it will be super ghetto to sleep in my back seat in a parking garage, soooo I will go to Starbucks and get super caffeinated like a normal person. However, wouldn’t it be perfect if I had a molo van (or perhaps I should refer to it as my nap van)? 
2.  Traveling cheaply. We could drive to NYC, Philly, or even Vegas and sleep in the van, because hotels are pricey. E said he didn’t think it would be a good idea since we couldn’t shower or go to the bathroom. 
3.  Hauling crap. I could also go to garage sales and load up on furniture and other big items (not that we need any more furniture). 
4.  Surveillance. I watch too much of The Wire, but you never know.  

What do you think of when you see a big van with no windows in the back? Are they a hippie van or something more sinister?