SINS OF THE PAST

SINS OF THE PAST

They say you can’t run from your past, and I guess that’s true, but that didn’t stop me from trying for the last 20 years. I can’t tell you how many times I prayed that I could change that one day in my past, but it still haunts me. I’ve decided today, I’m turning myself in, I’ll take my medicine, I’m tired of running.

It’s not like I planned to be a criminal, in fact I had never even gotten a speeding ticket up to that point. In fact, it all started when I decided that I couldn’t take another day of this darn freezing Maine weather. Honestly, it was just like that, I decided to pack my stuff and head south for warmer weather. Looking back, it wasn’t the smartest thing I ever did. I quit my lousy part time job, packed everything I had into my Backpack and started my journey south.

The funny thing was that I did not know where I was going or what I would do when I got there. I knew I didn’t have enough money to get all the way to Florida, but figured I would take a bus as far south as I could and then just hitch hike the rest of the way. An hour latter I was buying a ticket at the Grey Hound bus station and was on my way.

I soon discovered that I didn’t like traveling on a bus very much, it was cramped and seemed to stop at every hole in the wall town along the way. However, I had been to Florida once with some friends and it was a happy experience. We went down to see a race and with 3 of us driving it was only a 24 hour trip by car. This time it seemed like the Grey Hound driver was determined to make it a 2 week crawl. In any case, the long trip gave me plenty of time to think and the more I thought about my decision the more I found myself second guessing it.

The longer I sat in that cramped up seat, the more anxious and angry I became. It seemed like all my hostility was raising to the surface. The only good thing about the trip was that we were heading south and with each state we passed, I could feel the temperature gradually getting warmer.

After what seemed like an eternity, I finally fell into a deep sleep, but even that was interrupted by the driver tapping me on the shoulder. This was the end of the line for me, Colleton South Carolina. I pulled the now well worn ticket from my pocket to verify that this was as far south as my meager purchase would take me. That was it, Colleton, fate has a funny way of dealing you an unexpected hand, but hell, Colleton, who would ever voluntarily choose a place like this.

I just stood there for a moment in the cool winter morning, and watched as the bus pulled back on the highway and soon disappeared in traffic. I pulled out my wallet and did a quick accounting of the money I had left. I’m not really sure why I even looked because I had just checked at the last stop, and sure enough I had the same $27.50 that I had last night. My instincts told me to hang onto every dollar till I got to Florida, but my stomach had other plans, so I walked across the street to the small restaurant for some breakfast.

As I walked across the dirt parking lot, I noticed the place wasn’t very busy. There were a few dusty pick up trucks and a tricked out motorcycle parked out front. I remember thinking to myself that this place was no Denny’s restaurant, but all I wanted was a few strong cups of coffee and a few scrambled eggs anyway.

When I walked in the door, I got some bad vibes form the few patrons that were already seated. I looked for a table facing the door so that I would not have to look any of them in the eye. The place had maybe 10 tables and most of them seemed to still have dirty dishes on them, so I decided to sit at the counter next to the guy with the leather jacket on. As I set down I glanced over to my right and was greeted with a cold stare down from this dude that looked like a Hell’s Angle. The waitress brought me over a huge cup of hot coffee, that looked more like a soup bowl with a handle and I ordered my breakfast. After a few uncomfortable minutes of silence while I was waiting for my food, I decided to break the ice and ask if that was his motorcycle out front.

I guess, I picked the one topic that we both had in common, because he immediately lightened the tone and we struck up a conversation. I told him that I worked part time at a motorcycle shop up north as a mechanic and complimented him on his ride. We probably talked shop for around 25 or 30 minutes before I asked for my check and headed for the door.

When I reached the parking lot, it dawned on me that I really didn’t know where I was heading or how to get there. I set my backpack down on one of the two rocking chairs out front and dug out my light jacket. I was just zipping up my backpack when my buddy from the counter walked out the door. He mentioned that he had a few motorcycles back at his place that needed to be repaired and asked if I wanted to take on the job. I have to admit I felt quite uneasy about the whole thing but for the first time in my life, I really wasn’t in any rush and didn’t have any better thing to do.

We decided that I could probably knock out the work in 4 or 5 days and that he would pay me $200 plus allow me to sleep out in his barn until the job was finished. I have to tell you I felt uneasy as hell about this whole arrangement but I sorely need the cash and decided to take the risk. We shook hands on the deal and soon I was riding on the back of his bike and on our way out to the job.

Just as promised I worked on the bikes and had them up and running and both in top shape in 3 days. I was told that I’d have my money and a ride back into town around 5 P.M. which would give me just enough time to catch the last bus of the day heading south.

Jim showed up just as promised around 4:45, but he was drunk and belligerent as hell. It seems that since I finished the job quicker than expected, he was only willing to pay me $100. Well, that didn’t set well with me and our discussion soon turned into a full scale argument. I stood my ground and refused to leave without the money I was promised and as tempers flared, I soon found my self standing at the business end of one big bowie knife.

At that point I decided to swallow my pride, take my loss and just move on, but it seems like I had lost my bargaining position. I threatened to call the police and turned to walk away when I felt the cold steel blade rip through my jacket. Instinctively I grabbed a tire iron off the work bench behind me a swung it widely in the direction of the blade. Well, I missed his arm, but found his head, and soon the wrench and my arm were covered with blood.

I tore off my jacket and buried it in the trash can and cleaned up as well as I could. In a panic I grabbed the thick leather wallet from my assailants back pocket. Of course he had one of those biker chains attaching the wallet to his belt, so I just grabbed the cash and a few credit cards and headed for the door. Heck, I was just a kid and now I was a felon on the run. And I ran, I ran like a criminal and did not look back.

Well, I used that money to get myself to Florida and never looked back. In retrospect I should have called the sheriff and claimed self defense, but at the time all I could think of was running. So, now, for the last 20 years I have been moving, hiding, and switching jobs, always on the run. I’ve lived and re-lived the night of the incident through countless dreams and night mares, I remember it like it was yesterday. I’ve found that a man can’t be at peace with a thing like this, can’t settle down, make friends, or even have a family, when he is carrying a burden like this. I’ve been close to being caught several times by a detective from South Carolina; he has made solving this case a personal challenge for himself.

I’ve often thought that it’s strange how fate can intervene in a man’s life and change that one defining moment that will forever alter the course of your future. Sometimes that moment will lead you to success and riches and sometimes to failure and despair. So, today, I’ve decided to again leave myself to fate, to turn myself in and let the legal system be my judge, because I’ve learned that you just can’t run from your sins of the past.

Please feel free to contact me at; pooritalianboy@gmail.com

P.I.B.