If you grew up in the ‘80s, you might recall the Stranger Danger Panic that ignited after Etan Patz’s abduction in 1979 and the kidnapping/murder of Adam Walsh two years later. Collective fear reached such a fevered pitch that kids’ faces were soon plastered all over milk cartons and then-President Ronald Reagan signed the Missing […]
Based on examining the population of Jacksonville, Florida and Houston, Texas (together the cities contained 0.9 percent of the country’s population), 29,889 stranger abductions were suggested as the correct estimate. But even that number seemed off. As the National Affairs report later states, “88 percent of the victims were female, 97 percent were missing for less than twenty-four hours, and the police recorded 61 percent of the cases as sex offenses.” Those two cities seemed as good a benchmark as any. The report continued, adding that “most were cases of molestation, albeit technically involving kidnapping.”
Wheels of Terror hit eerily close to home. As the mysterious Dodge Charger circles around Copper Valley’s residents, many don’t believe the car actually exists. But no one could explain the young girls’ disappearances and molestations. Only Laura seemed to catch a glimpse of the vehicle, often lurking down backroads and parked near street corners where kids waited for the bus. The stranger abductions soon erupted into a full-blown epidemic, with many townspeople blaming the police force for the lack of developments or answers. It became clear it would be up to Laura to crack the case.
The 1980s sometimes feel like an alternate timeline. There were mass stranger abductions, the myth of razor blades being put into candy, and the overwhelming sense that you couldn’t trust even your closest neighbors. As Gen X likes to remind the internet, they were latchkey kids–a generation left to wander the streets without much parental supervision. By the early to mid-90s, things had seemed to shift quite dramatically. As NISMART (National Incidence Studies of Missing, Abducted, Runaway, and Thrownaway Children) reported in December 2004, the period between 1988 and 1999 witnessed “significant mobilization on behalf of missing children,” with police receiving “special training.” The bulletin also noted that “public awareness grew as a result of media coverage and educational programs disseminated to schools and families.”
Until the conversation adapted to these initiatives, parents were left mostly stumbling around in the dark. That’s certainly the case for Laura in Wheels of Terror. As law enforcement scratched their heads and made no headway into finding the sexual predator, she took matters into her own hands when her daughter became the latest target. After Stephanie is snatched by the Dodge Charger, Laura goes on a cross-town car chase through the desert. Dust, dust, and more dust coats the screen for a solid 20 or so minutes. It takes a bit of maneuvering, but Stephanie skillfully climbs out of the Charger’s sunroof and latches herself to the side of the school bus. She hangs precariously, as Laura attempts to shake the Dodge Charger. After some scarily close calls, she’s able to trick the Dodge Charger into accidentally flying over a cliff and coming to a climactic explosion in the canyon below. It’s a suitable end for a rein of terror that shook Copper Valley to its core.
While many families didn’t have such a triumphant ending, Wheels of Terror ensnares the fear, dread, and hopelessness that permeated much of the 1980s. It was certainly a different time, and thankfully, public awareness has created a more well-informed ecosystem of resources. As the film celebrates its 35th anniversary this year, I’m reminded of the many watches of my dad’s VHS-recorded copy. Being five or six years old, I perhaps didn’t catch the greater societal themes of the film (I just knew that the Dodge Charger with its tinted windows scared the hell out of me), but I took greater care when it came to avoiding strange cars and their even stranger drivers.
Wheels of Terror, part of USA’s 1990s horror lineup, as Bloody Disgusting’s Paul Lê points out, remains one of the decade’s most underrated and overlooked car-themed films. While it’s only available now on YouTube, it’s still an important entry to demonstrate exactly how terrifying the ‘80s really were. It most definitely was a free-for-all.
