A Life Wasted

Leaving Home

I turned seventeen in August 1973. I had already decided I had enough of school so decided not to go to high-school. My parents didn't like the idea of my dropping out, but eventually agreed with my logic. I wasn't a guy that did well in school. Plus, I was making pretty good money at the gas station (they had no idea why I was doing so good), so we were discussing vocational school options. Just after my seventeenth birthday I went on one of the few real dates I had ever had. Can't remember the girl's name, but was nice, a good kid my age who lived on our street. We had one date and never kissed. The problem was that I got home thirty minutes after curfew. Step-dad was in a foul mood that night and decided to put his foot down. He took my car keys and told me I was grounded until further notice. I guess I wasn't in the best of moods myself because I went to my shared bedroom, collected my hidden funds, crawled out the window without so much as a note. I left home a month after I turned seventeen and never went back.