My Story: High school

By the time I finished high school, my disdain for church and the people who went to church grew more and more.

For some reason I became angry with God (assuming there even was one) and even more angry at the church.

I had started drinking heavily, and now I began to do drugs. My weekends were spent looking for trouble, and most times I found it.

I remember spending one summer with a group of guys who made me look like a choir boy. Just about every weekend we were fighting, stealing, and chasing everything and everybody we could.

One night we broke into a house, and I was the getaway driver. We had taken a safe out of the house and put it into a four-door car.

This safe weighed as much as the car, but somehow we managed to get it into the back seat. As we drove through town to take the safe somewhere so we could cut it open, we pulled next to a police car at a stop light.

Here we were, four big guys in the front seat of a car and a safe in the back, stopped at a stop light waiting for it to turn green.

To this day, I don’t know why the cop never looked our way, but he kept his eyes straight and drove on through the light.

We then drove on to a garage to break open the safe . . . and to clean our underwear.

That summer night was the last time I ever stole a thing. I was scared straight by that encounter. In case you’re wondering, we did break into that safe, only to find four rolls of quarters and an old handgun. I could have spent years in jail for forty dollars and broken gun.