A Life Wasted

Running Away

I believe the next event occurred when I was twelve years old, so 1968. However, my mother believes it happened when I was fourteen. Normally I would defer to mom's memory on my younger years, but my memory is so clear that the events I remember were seen through the eye's of a twelve year that I have put this story in here. Though mom and I recall this event, we may never be sure of it's time frame.

I don't remember the catalyst (neither does my mom) but when we lived in Savannah I ran away from home. (Mom thinks it was from Orlando after we first moved there) I have no idea why I wanted to go north, but I do recall having a burning need to go north. I was far too young to go anywhere alone, but somehow I managed to hitch hike all the way to the North Georgia town of Clarksville, 300 hundred miles from Savannah. I have little memory of the northern trip, but I clearly remember it being full dark when I walked north out of Clarksville Georgia, hoping to get a ride, but determined to walk in the dark if I didn't. I had barely walked a mile out of town when two men in a pickup truck gave me a ride. We drove north on the rural mountain road for about five minutes, then they pulled over, yanked me out of the truck and robbed me. I only had a few dollars and nothing of value, which upset them enough to start hitting me. After a few punches I managed to slip away and run off into the woods with both men giving chase. This was before Burt Reynolds made the movie "Deliverance", but the movie was made only 33 miles away, which gives you an idea of the area I was in. So I guess I had some primal premonition of dueling banjos because I ran deep into the woods as fast as my young legs would carry me. I ran until I couldn't hear their shouted taunts and then I kept running. I only stopped running when I ran into a creek. I was exhausted and thirsty so drank out of the creek while laying in it.

I stayed perfectly still for ten minutes, then crawled out of the creek and laid still for another half hour. I listened to the woods for any sound that didn't belong. All I heard were the natural sounds of deep woods at night. Feeling safer here than on the road I closed my eyes and fell asleep beside the creek. I had no idea how long I'd slept, but when I woke I felt confident enough time had passed that the two men would be gone. I've always had a natural ability to know my way in the woods so I didn't get lost, but it still took awhile to reach the road. Once there I stayed in the darkness of the woods and watched and listened for a while, careful to be sure the truck wasn't around. Once I was satisfied I was alone and that no one was on the road I got back on the road and resumed my northward trek.

Still have no idea why I was so determined to go north, but I was like a salmon swimming home. I had to go north.

It wasn't long before I heard a motor then saw the illumination of headlights peering around the tight curves of the road. Fearing it could be the same guys that robbed and beat me I ran far enough into the woods that I couldn't be seen. I was relieved to see that it was a police car, but not willing to show myself. Once the police car was out of sight I took to the road again and resumed my northern migration. Ten minutes after the police car I spotted something on the side of the road. At first I had no idea what it was other than that it was a dark blob. Twenty feet from it I saw the thing move, which stopped me in my tracks. I stood perfectly still watching it as it moved side to side, then took a few slow steps towards me. Then it growled. Before it growled my mind was forming the word "bear". It was an image the growl immediately solidified. It wasn't a loud growl, but in the quiet night it was loud enough to freeze me. The bear was on the road now and making a slow swaying walk towards me. At this point I could see him clear enough to be sure I was standing on a dark county road looking at a wild bear. Having no experience with bears, I responded to my fear the only way I could. I turned and ran for all I was worth. Forest Gump had nothing on me that night because I ran and I ran. I ran like I was terrified because I was terrified. I ran like my life depended on it because my life did depend on it.

I either ran faster than humanly possible or my trek through the woods brought me back to the road at a point closer to Clarksville because in no time I could see the lights of the small town. I stopped under the first street light I reached and just stood there and sucked in air until I could breathe normal again. I was so determined to go north that I'd traveled 300 miles to get to this point, and even after being robbed, beaten and chased deep into the woods I still hit the road by turning north again. But running into a bear in the dark was an order higher on the fear factor. The encounter with the black bear was so traumatic that all I wanted was to go home. Whatever I was upset about at home wasn't as bad as running into a bear on a country road.

The small town was shut up tight so I had started looking for a safe place to sleep when I spotted a fire station with it's big garage door open. Like every kid of my generation I knew that all fireman were my friend. So I walked into the garage and past the comforting big red truck. No one was around so I knocked on the door at the back of the garage. Moments later an old man opened the door and said, "What's all the ruckus about?" Those were his exact words. I told him I'd run away from home and that I'd been robbed and beat up then chased by a big bear, though I don't know if the bear actually chased me. The old fireman was great. He brought me in and fed me. He also called the local sheriff, who came over immediately. The fireman hadn't asked me where I was from but it was one of the sheriff's first questions. He didn't believe me at first when I said I was from Savannah. "That's hundreds of miles away," he said. I shrugged. Then he asked if I wanted to go home. I did. After the sheriff wrote down my parent's name and phone number he left, and the fireman got me settled in an unused bed. In the morning the sheriff showed up while I was eating breakfast. He handed me a bus ticket to Savannah and what he called pocket money. He gave me directions to the bus station and said, "The bus leaves at 8:30. Any kid that can make his way across the State of Georgia alone can manage to find the bus station. He shook my hand, wished me a pleasant trip, then drove off. I've always had fond memories of the fireman and sheriff in Clarksville.

*Dad and I forgot to add this story earlier, until mom asked why he didn't tell it. As we are working on turning this into a full book, there may be a few stories we add later on, and put in their proper place. Sorry for the bounce around!

~Rebecca