Its one of the more memorable days in my life. For background, we were a typical 50s family. We had one car and my poor father was the designated driver. But he wanted my mother to learn to drive. She had no interest in it, but other families had the two drivers. So we started Sunday torture sessions. Its an understatement to say my brother and I hated it.

So one Sunday we went driving (crashing, really) out we went to the car (a 53 chevy) and all got in, with my dad driving us out of town. My alcohol addled brain doesn't recall the year, but I think it was '57. We went up the road to the water tower where dad could pull over and let my mother try to drive. We only made it maybe a mile till she ran off the road and into a culvert. There are some things women just shouldn't do. Or at least some women.

Surprisingly, dad didn't swear or yell or anything, he just got out to survey the damage, then change the tire for the spare. My brother and I were young and sat in the back seat, crying. Probably a smart thing because it wore on my poor mother. She was crying, too. But my dad was born in 1911 and knew how to change tires. Back in those days, it was part of driving. So dad drove us home, much to my relief.

But the next Sunday, he again said it was time to go driving. Without a word, I walked outside , but hit the grass and began a dead run. My brother did the same, but chose the road. Dad followed him and caught up fairly fast. I turned and headed down the side street. Then ran off into the nearby woods. My turf, so to speak. I knew all the trails. If I was going to get caught, it would mean my dad would give my brother a good head start. I did stop to rest at the top of a hill, got in some brush and looked back. No followers. I hadn't recovered my breath, but had enough that I could continue hiking. Didn't know where I was going, only knew it wasn't back home. Life had become untenable there.

We had friends with a farm a couple of miles away. I figured their hayloft would work for a while. Turns out my brother got caught only a block away (didn't have blocks, but its a unit of measure). After a bit of a hike and a few hills were I could look back and some thinking, I took a hard left turn. More to let me look back from vantage points than for any plan of escape. While it didn't really mean a shorter distance, it meant no one could see me and no roads. As I get old I realize it might have helped to have a plan, but escape seemed like the important thing. Its also altered my view of prison escape movies. Yeah, I root for the criminals.

I was a skinny kid and didn't do well without food. But I retraced my steps and picked up the pop bottles I'd seen. Then went to a "pony keg" and traded the 5 of them in on two candy bars. The proprietor even commented I'd been in some brush. Said the locals had been along and told him to be on the lookout for a kid. Yeah, that had been me. Went back to the barn, laid down, pulled some loose hay over me and went to sleep. I didn't ever want to go back home.

But the next morning the friends with the barn came out and had a talk with me. Mr. Henson explained I wasn't in much trouble and I'd have to go home sometime. He drove me kind of near our house and let me out, explaining he didn't want to be connected to my disappearance. Smart guy he was. I got home and only got screamed at for a few minutes. My mother comforted me by saying she wasn't ever going driving again.

My brother said he only made it a block or so. He had no idea dad could run that fast, with him smoking and all. The only reason I didn't get caught was my dad went after my brother, not me. Shocked them I could not just get away, but I could stay out all night. Taught me some things, too. Pick a path that will punish your followers. Make them pay for it. They'll follow the easiest path, not the one with briar patches, hills, creeks and whatever. Also, when you're fleeing, go away, then make a 90 degree turn. Takes a really motivated follower to do that. Highly paid prison guards will take the easiest path if the chased people make it difficult. They may want to beat the shit out of the people they catch, but they will track, not try to catch you through sheer speed.

Also why jails have terrible food. No reason to make the escapee's fit and healthy. Keep going for a suitable distance, but not when you're exhausted. For those of you tracking...learn to circle to pick up the trail again, but out enough that the chased won't find you. That is if they know tracking.

Me and a neighborhood buddy decided one afternoon that we were going down to the creek!! We were never allowed with out my older brother. The creek was 1/2 mile away so we rode our bikes. Got there quick, and proceeded to have the usual fun.

We were there for what seemed like an hour, more likely 20 minutes, playing in the shallow water, skipping rocks, when my buddy skipped one into my head!

Bleeding like crazy, I, we headed home. Got there fast and were amazed nobody even knew we were gone, disappointed our escape, wasn't!

I "ran away" from home twice. Once when I was 16 and my mother decided that it would be better for me to pick the apricots than to go to work. I had been paying room and board for 2 years at that point. Had a job lined up for the summer with the US Forest Service. Mom suggested that I pick the apricots or leave. I left and ended up on a farm in western Oregon. Mom and dad arrived on the scene and eventually convinced me to go home with them.

Year later, mom suggested that I might prefer to be in the army and should go enlist. That was about 1100 in the morning. At 1630 that day I was on the bus to the medical center for my enlistment physical. And I was in the army.

I've been escaping my entire life. Couldn't tell you how many turns I've taken. Some left, some right, some back ... then back forward again. Haven't seen anyone on my trail for a very long time but the scent is still there. No doubt.

Hobbs, I would be right there with you had I not met the love of my life 34 years ago, she keeps me anchored, and that's a good thing!!

I never actually ran away, but I did a lot of sneaking off to places I was not allowed to go. There was a freight train that went to Dayton every morning. I would skip school and hop the train (which really pissed off the train crew) and rode it into Dayton. I then spent the day wandering around downtown Dayton, which in those days had lots of big stores. Rikes, Sears, Elder Beerman and Pennys. I went to all of them. And then rode the train back home. I also rode my bike from home to the AF Museum when it was in Fairborn and would spend the day. Either of these trips would have rated an ass beating if my parents ever found out.