Chapter Four

I hadn’t planned on putting up another chapter today, but it may be my next week will keep me offline more than usual. So — here it is .. Chapter Four …

Be well — Be in peace …. Ron Rink
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The decision was made to run away. I can’t even say if it was a conscious decision or whether I was just really excited about the possibility of not having to be home with my father.

Whatever it was, my little eight-year-old mind was working overtime thinking of all the things I would have to do to make this work. I don’t remember being frightened by the idea at all. I reasoned I had to get some clothes and some of the money I had stashed away. I remember thinking I wouldn’t have to worry too much about food because there were so many victory gardens around with plenty of things there for the taking. I knew I could steal from them after dark with no problem. Of course, as I was going to discover, there were many, many things I didn’t think about, or plan for.

When I got on my bike outside after talking with Billy, I decided I was going to shoot right home to see if my mother was there. It was one of her days to go to the church to practice on the organ, and even though it was after four in the afternoon, she might not have been home yet. My father usually didn’t get home until around six. If she wasn’t home, I was going to get some of my clothes, some food and the money I had hidden. (Even though my father would make me give him any money I earned, I always managed to hold back a little each time. If I got paid five dollars, I would put one dollar in my shoe before I went home, and give him the other four.)

If my mother was home, I would just wait until her next practicing day, which was only a few days away, and then get all my things before I had to leave for work.

As it turned out, my mother was home when I got there, so I didn’t get a chance to gather up the things I wanted and run away that day. It might have been a good thing because it gave me a chance to spend more time thinking about what I would need and what I would do once I left.

There were things like remembering to take my raincoat and a warm sweater. I needed something to put extra clothes in because I couldn’t carry them around with me all day. I would need to find someplace to hide my things where nobody would find them. A cardboard box wouldn’t work because if I hid them outdoors and it rained, everything would get wet. The bowling alley would be a good place to hide them.

Even though I was planning to sleep there at night I wouldn’t be able to go to work there after the first day I was gone from home. The bowling alley would be one of the first places my father or the cops would come looking for me.

I began thinking about what I would do during the day. I couldn’t go and play ball over by the school down by State Fair—it was too close to home. If I hung out with other kids I knew, my parents would easily track me down. When I did go I had to get out of the neighborhood during the day, and I’d probably have to find another place where I could earn some money. I could get along okay for a few days on what I had saved up, but I’d still need money coming in. I was starting to get nervous about this, but every time I thought about not running away, I would think about my father hitting me with his fists and how that felt. By keeping that thought in my mind I stayed determined to go through with this.

Since I had a few more days before the next time my mother would be gone for her organ practice, I started to make more plans. First thing the next morning I told my mother I had to work an extra shift at the bowling alley and I’d be there all day. That way she wouldn’t make me stay around the house.

She had questions and comments like, “Why do you have to do that all of a sudden—you’ve never had to do it before?” And, “You’re much too young to be working in that place!”

While at the time those comments made me worried she wouldn’t let me go, there was a part of me, deep down, where I knew my father wanted me to bring money home, and whatever he wanted, he got. So, I didn’t think she would push too far to keep me from going. Even if she didn’t like me working there, she would never have put her foot down and stood up to my father.

After my mother stopped questioning me, I left the house and rode my bike out of the neighborhood. I headed north where there were very few houses. There were a few farms out that way and lots of woods and open fields. Once I crossed over Eight Mile Road, I was in a city called Hazel Park. This city really wasn’t much more than open country. There were businesses of various kinds along the north side of Eight Mile Road, but not much else. I had never been in that area alone before. As I rode along I realized there wouldn’t be many places I could go during the day. There were a couple of stores but not much else in the way of places to hang out.

Some of the guys at the bowling alley had been talking about a possible racetrack starting up in Hazel Park. They had seen some activity out around Ten Mile Road with some stables being constructed and the beginnings of a grandstand. I decided to head over that way just to scout out the area and see if there might be somewhere I could go during the day where I wouldn’t be too noticeable. I headed north on Dequindre.

Before I got to Ten Mile Road, the first of the buildings and sheds came into view. If it weren’t for the beginnings of the grandstands it would have looked like any large farm area. There were fences all around the area but I couldn’t see much of what was happening from where I was. The grandstands were the most obvious of the structures and looked to me like they went up about three or four stories high—they were huge. They appeared to be made out of steel and I could see how the seats were made out of long wooden planks. It must have been too early in the day for any work to be taking place because there wasn’t any activity around the grandstands I could see. The development of this area into a full-blown racetrack would take a few more years.

I did see some people working around some of the sheds. The sheds were made out of wood and were long and narrow with pitched roofs. There must have been fifteen or twenty of them spaced all around the sides of the track. Some had their backs facing the road I was on, but I could see the fronts of others. As I drew closer I could see these sheds were actually stables, because there were horses poking their heads out of the upper part of the doors of some of those facing me. The area all around the stables was dirt and I could see the dust being kicked up by the people who were working.

Soon I could begin to smell the aroma of the area, such a wonderful, sweet smell of the mixture of hay and horses. I now know how with this particular aroma — you either like it right from the start, or you don’t. I loved it right away, and still do to this day. I love being in a barn or around horses.

The people working around the stables were doing things like carrying big bundles of hay or straw, raking out the stalls, or carrying buckets of water or feed to the stalls. Some of them were walking the horses, while others were brushing, combing and even washing them. I decided right then that I would talk to the guy at the bowling alley about whether I might be able to get a job at the track.

Since I didn’t have much more time before I had to go to work I rode just a little further on my bike to see if there might be good places to go during the day where I could stay out of sight and not get caught. There was another bowling alley over on Ten Mile Road near Ryan. Maybe this was a possibility for another place to work my parents wouldn’t know about.

I did talk to the racetrack guy at the bowling alley later on, and he told me they probably wouldn’t hire me because I was too young. He did say some of the people who did work at the track would pay kids who were hanging around to do odd jobs for them.
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