I am going to tell this story in parts. There is a lot to tell. It is a testimony of how love prevails. I am incorporating a lot of my personal testimony in to this story. Please be patient as I add parts. If you reply, I will "like" after I have added more.
23 years ago I met an amazing girl. I was only 18 and she was 16.
At the age of 18, I was going through a very rebellious stage. I had moved out of my parents home within a week of turning 18. I wasn't angry with my parents, I just wanted to get out and make my own way.
I had been drinking and experimenting with drugs since the age of 15. I was sneaking out of the house on a regular basis and roaming town hanging out with friends partying. At one point, my mother discovered I had been experimenting with cocaine and grounded me to the house for the entirety of summer vacation. I kept things calmer over the next few years of high school limiting my drinking and sticking to mostly smoking pot.
The week I turned 18, I moved in to an apartment with 3 friends. We lived there for about a month until 2 of the guys went for a visit to a southern state and never came back. Me and the other guy got evicted. I was determined to not go home. I was not going to let my parents know that I was not making it on my own. The other guy, Jason, and I had been friends for a few years and he decided to stick with me. It was late spring (May/June of 1990) and we started living in my '76 Chevy Impala. That car was huge and probably could accommodate a family of four.
Jason only made it about 2 weeks before he got really sick and decided to move back home with his mom and sisters. He suggested that I do the same. He even offered to see if I could stay with him. To me, this was as good as failure. I was determined to make it on my own.
It was my graduating year and also the first year I ever failed a year of school. I was determined to get my diploma though and not let all those years of school be a wasted. I went to summer school to make up for the classes I failed. I was sleeping in my car in the school parking lot having friends wake me up each morning to get to class.
I was not only finishing my school but I was learning new skills. I had cans of soup stocked in the car. I would peel the label off of a can, throw it on the engine block to cook it while driving around, then use a can opener I kept stashed in the glove box to open the can, and scoop the soup out with a slice of bread. There were many other skills that came along the way, lots of them very questionable to say the least.
Summer breezed by and so many things happened. I made new friends, the closest of which was my new friend Steve from Brooklyn, New York who was only 19 at the time. He had a knack for finding flop houses. Life was a whirlwind of adventure but was becoming more and more dangerous with each passing day. By fall we had stayed in multiple flop houses, joined a carnival outfit that we started traveling with, been in multiple fights including a huge bar fight at a biker bar, and were doing every drug we could get our hands on. I had grown cold, bitter, and self-destructive.
I barely remember the day I stood in the camping trailer on the carnival grounds. JJ was an older guy from Texas with cowboy boots, a grizzled gray handle-bar mustache, and a leather cowboy hat to top off the look. He was the best cross of a cowboy and a biker that you could get as far as I could see. His face was leathery and wrinkled as well mostly from dehydration from his constant drinking. He would stand in front of his carnival game all day long with a huge coffee mug filled with beer.
He was glaring at me with those stone cold eyes of his. He was growing frustrated with my cockiness. Things were escalating rapidly. I wasn't about to back down and neither was he. JJ took a few steps around a corner of his trailer and re-emerged pointing his 20 gauge shot gun at my chest. His face was red and his nostrils were flaring. He was spitting while he talked. His Texan accent was clearer. He was furious.
He cocked the gun and pointed it right at my chest and said, "You aren't nearly as tough as you talk. You aren't nothing but a cocky kid."
I stood there staring back cold and numb without any regard as to what was happening or what could happen. As calm as ever I replied, "Why don't you pull the trigger and find out."
I saw the shock in JJ's eyes and to my astonishment, I saw a twinkling smile in his eyes. The next thing I know he is roaring in laughter as he uncocked the gun and set it aside. He held out his hand showing me a shell saying, "It wasn't loaded." He kept laughing as he said, "You are alright. I think you and I are going to end up getting along just fine."
I remember just standing there not knowing whether to be disappointed or amused.
I ended up learning how to drive stick shift when JJ ended up too drunk to drive while we were in the middle of town. Talk about a crash course. We were stuck at a light going uphill. I literally had until the light turned green to get JJ out of the driver's seat and learn to drive stick. Every moment was turning out to be one of survival.
Steve and I spent the rest of the summer and part of fall living with JJ in his trailer until he left state to follow the carnival. By the time fall ended, Steve had found another flop house for us to stay at for the winter. Things didn't exactly work out that way for me though. Again, I went my own way and what happened next would change my life forever.
Youth Gone Wild
23 years ago I met an amazing girl. I was only 18 and she was 16.
At the age of 18, I was going through a very rebellious stage. I had moved out of my parents home within a week of turning 18. I wasn't angry with my parents, I just wanted to get out and make my own way.
I had been drinking and experimenting with drugs since the age of 15. I was sneaking out of the house on a regular basis and roaming town hanging out with friends partying. At one point, my mother discovered I had been experimenting with cocaine and grounded me to the house for the entirety of summer vacation. I kept things calmer over the next few years of high school limiting my drinking and sticking to mostly smoking pot.
The week I turned 18, I moved in to an apartment with 3 friends. We lived there for about a month until 2 of the guys went for a visit to a southern state and never came back. Me and the other guy got evicted. I was determined to not go home. I was not going to let my parents know that I was not making it on my own. The other guy, Jason, and I had been friends for a few years and he decided to stick with me. It was late spring (May/June of 1990) and we started living in my '76 Chevy Impala. That car was huge and probably could accommodate a family of four.
Jason only made it about 2 weeks before he got really sick and decided to move back home with his mom and sisters. He suggested that I do the same. He even offered to see if I could stay with him. To me, this was as good as failure. I was determined to make it on my own.
It was my graduating year and also the first year I ever failed a year of school. I was determined to get my diploma though and not let all those years of school be a wasted. I went to summer school to make up for the classes I failed. I was sleeping in my car in the school parking lot having friends wake me up each morning to get to class.
I was not only finishing my school but I was learning new skills. I had cans of soup stocked in the car. I would peel the label off of a can, throw it on the engine block to cook it while driving around, then use a can opener I kept stashed in the glove box to open the can, and scoop the soup out with a slice of bread. There were many other skills that came along the way, lots of them very questionable to say the least.
Summer breezed by and so many things happened. I made new friends, the closest of which was my new friend Steve from Brooklyn, New York who was only 19 at the time. He had a knack for finding flop houses. Life was a whirlwind of adventure but was becoming more and more dangerous with each passing day. By fall we had stayed in multiple flop houses, joined a carnival outfit that we started traveling with, been in multiple fights including a huge bar fight at a biker bar, and were doing every drug we could get our hands on. I had grown cold, bitter, and self-destructive.
I barely remember the day I stood in the camping trailer on the carnival grounds. JJ was an older guy from Texas with cowboy boots, a grizzled gray handle-bar mustache, and a leather cowboy hat to top off the look. He was the best cross of a cowboy and a biker that you could get as far as I could see. His face was leathery and wrinkled as well mostly from dehydration from his constant drinking. He would stand in front of his carnival game all day long with a huge coffee mug filled with beer.
He was glaring at me with those stone cold eyes of his. He was growing frustrated with my cockiness. Things were escalating rapidly. I wasn't about to back down and neither was he. JJ took a few steps around a corner of his trailer and re-emerged pointing his 20 gauge shot gun at my chest. His face was red and his nostrils were flaring. He was spitting while he talked. His Texan accent was clearer. He was furious.
He cocked the gun and pointed it right at my chest and said, "You aren't nearly as tough as you talk. You aren't nothing but a cocky kid."
I stood there staring back cold and numb without any regard as to what was happening or what could happen. As calm as ever I replied, "Why don't you pull the trigger and find out."
I saw the shock in JJ's eyes and to my astonishment, I saw a twinkling smile in his eyes. The next thing I know he is roaring in laughter as he uncocked the gun and set it aside. He held out his hand showing me a shell saying, "It wasn't loaded." He kept laughing as he said, "You are alright. I think you and I are going to end up getting along just fine."
I remember just standing there not knowing whether to be disappointed or amused.
I ended up learning how to drive stick shift when JJ ended up too drunk to drive while we were in the middle of town. Talk about a crash course. We were stuck at a light going uphill. I literally had until the light turned green to get JJ out of the driver's seat and learn to drive stick. Every moment was turning out to be one of survival.
Steve and I spent the rest of the summer and part of fall living with JJ in his trailer until he left state to follow the carnival. By the time fall ended, Steve had found another flop house for us to stay at for the winter. Things didn't exactly work out that way for me though. Again, I went my own way and what happened next would change my life forever.
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