The first thing I did after they dropped me off in Orlando was find a pay phone and use my precious coins to call Mary. She already knew of my adventure, though I'm not sure how she learned of it. She had repeatedly called the prison for an update. Several times they told her I was surrounded and it would be over soon. A few hours before I called they told Mary I was surrounded and there was no way I could escape them this time. The Captain told my wife something to indicate I'd not likely survive my capture. They were pretty upset with me by this point. Something I'd already figured out by they way they tried to shoot me in the back. When Mary answered the phone she expected to hear news of my death so she was crying hard. She was shocked to hear my voice. She asked if I was okay and I assured her I was. A little tattered, but I'd heal. She said she thought they were going to kill me and that she was surprised they let me call. I figured out that she assumed I'd been caught. This made me laugh. No I told her, they didn't catch me. Nor will they. I'm a long way from Georgia. They'd been so sure I was surrounded in the woods it took my wife several minutes to accept the change of circumstances. Once she calmed down I told her I'd come for her as soon as I could get things together. We didn't talk long. I didn't think they could set up a trace that fast (not in 1979 anyways) but didn't want to take the chance. Plus I needed those quarters and dimes.

I was close to the Lutheran church mom and Ken attended. I didn't know anyone in that area of town so I walked towards the church. I'd only met the pastor there a few times so barely knew him, but my mom always spoke highly of him. (I can't remember his name.) Mom used to say, "When I die I want to hold Pastor so-in-so's hand because I know he's going to heaven." Maybe that's why I was drawn to the church. I really don't know. It was past midnight when I got there, so I found a thick bush to hide behind, laid down and fell into a deep sleep. I woke in the morning to see the pastor getting out of his car. I thought I was hidden pretty well, but he saw me and asked if I was okay. When I came out of the bushes he recognized me and invited me into his office.

We had an interesting conversation. I told him the truth. I hadn't realized how traumatic the experience had been until I told the story. As I did I started shaking and crying. There were times during the escape where I had been scared to death, but had suppressed it until talking about it. I think the pastor was astounded by my tale, but managed to remain professional. Being a professional he advised me to turn myself in. Even offered to drive me back to the prison in Savannah. I was disincline to agree to that and said so. He asked if I wanted to talk to my mom, and I said no. All I wanted was to see a friendly face, someone who wasn't trying to kill me, so that's what I told him. He offered me money and a ride but I turned down both. Mom was right, he was a good man. I wasn't willing to risk getting him in trouble helping me so I limped away after we prayed together. I was glad I talked to him, but wasn't interested in going back to prison.

I had a friend in Orlando who owed me $150 from several years earlier so I looked him up to collect. He was shocked to see me, but did remember his debt. I'd helped him when he needed it so he returned the favor. He'd been a small time drug dealer then, but was a real "player" now. He'd moved from selling small bags of pot to fencing stolen cars. He was near my size so the first thing he did was give me a decent set of clothes, even a pair of sneakers that fit. Then he gave me what he owed me plus $500 on top. Knowing I'd need wheels he also gave me a car that had been stolen a few days earlier. With $650, a car, clothes and shoes that fit I was wealthy. I had enough to arrange a meeting with my wife, which was all I wanted. I wasn't all that excited about driving up I-95 through Savannah, but that was where I was headed. That wasn't the only way to get to Ohio, but it was the most direct. To be safe I decided to take my time. Give things in Savannah an extra day to die down. Because my car had been stolen form somewhere in Orlando I stayed with him until dark then drove east towards Daytona Beach, then took I-95 north. My plan was to get a room somewhere south of the Georgia line, then fill my tank and drive all the way to Atlanta without stopping. I never made it that far.

Somewhere north of Dayton Beach I ended up with a Florida State Trooper on my back bumper. From previous experience with these guys I knew I couldn't out run him with anything shy of a NASCAR race car, and maybe not even that, so I took an immediate exit and tried to loose him through whatever small town I was in. I did manage to put enough distance between us to hide the car in an underground parking garage. I left the car there and started walking. It was late enough that there were few pedestrians, so I stood out too much. Looking for a place to hide till morning I spotted a small marina, which I walked to. It was a small city marina with small boats. I was walking along the dock looking for a boat to sleep in when I noticed two cop cars working their way towards me. I decided my best move was to steal a boat. A first for me.

I still didn't know how to hot-wire anything, so I picked a twenty foot day sailor with an outboard motor on the back. I got on the boat and kicked the five gallon gas can. It wasn't full but had enough, so I primed the engine, pulled the cord a few times and the engine started. A minute later the boat was untied and I was cruising down the Intercoastal Waterway. I'd been on the ICW south of here but never this far north, still it was pretty much the same. Out of the marina I turned north on the ICW and looked for those cops. Whatever they were doing they weren't around now so I doubted they'd seen me. It didn't matter. I needed to do something and now that I had the boat I liked the idea. The weather was good so perhaps I could sail to Jacksonville. Further if the weather held. As I was thinking this I noticed a police car sitting on a bridge over the ICW a mile or more ahead of me. All I could see was the car sitting on the bridge with its emergency lights flashing, but that was enough for me. At that point I had intersected with a channel that connected to the Atlantic so I took a right turn and pointed the little boat to sea.

As soon as I cleared the surf I turned north while angling further out to sea. About a mile off shore I set a course parallel to the shore and settled in for a long ride. It was a beautiful night with perfectly flat seas. Tranquil after all I'd been through. I was considering going all the way to Virginia Beach when the motor died. Out of gas. I knew it would happen so no big deal. An anchor and line was laying on deck and already rigged so I tossed it over the side. The bottom was sixty feet so the anchor held well. I sat down and enjoyed the quiet of the calm sea for several minutes. Leaned over the side and splashed water on my face. The salt water burned my blistered face, but still felt good. Figuring I'd stalled too long. It was time to rig the sail and get going. I was rather disappointed to find the sail locker empty. I searched the boat from stem to stern. No sail, not even a bed sheet. Nor was there more gas. There was a radio but I wasn't about to call the Coast Guard. The shore was only a mile away. An easy swim for me on a night like this.

I found an airtight bag in the cabin, so I stripped off all my clothes and put them in it. I stretched my muscles for several minutes then stood naked on the stern. I took in a dozen deep breathes to feed oxygen to my muscles and was about to dive in when a dolphin broke the water in front of me. The ocean was flat calm and back-lit from shore lights, so I had a perfect view of the dolphin, even saw the water spray from its air hole when it surfaced. I watched it swim on the surface for a few beats then it was out of sight in the dark. Dolphins are harmless to people. I knew that well, yet something about the experience shook me. Like flipping a switch on my courage, I went from fully confident to scared. I knew it was an irrational fear. I told myself it was. I argued with myself that not only was the dolphin my friend, but its presence assured me there weren't any sharks near. Sharks were something I'd not even considered before seeing the dolphin, but now that I thought about them the dark water was full of them in my mind.

I cursed the day I'd taken my baby brother to the theater to see Jaws.

I was still cursing that movie as I got dressed and forgot any thought of swimming to shore in the dark. I'd wait until daylight and swim it then. I could only hope no one was chasing me on the boat. If they were I'd be easy to spot when the sun was up. Wondering if my anchor was still holding I pulled on the line. It held tight to the bottom. I knew this because the boat had drifted towards the sea, but when I pulled on it, it brought me closer to shore. As soon as I observed this I knew how to get ashore. I walked the anchor line to the bow, then pulled it in slowly. As soon as I felt the anchor free of the bottom I pulled it up as fast as I could. It was a mushroom anchor, six pounds. Leaning over the bow of the boat I held the line six feet from the anchor then twirled the anchor like a rodeo cowboy. When I released my grip the anchor flew in a high arch, then splashed down fifty feet away. Knowing the anchor would go straight down as long as it had the line I fed line over the side of the boat. I gave it a minute to settle then pulled the boat towards it. This time I fed the extra line into the water as I pulled it up to ensure the anchor had enough to reach the bottom on the next toss. Each throw I got better and was able to send the anchor further. I estimated I was able to pull the boat twenty feet closer to shore with each throw. It was slow going, but as the sun was beginning to illuminate the sea behind me, my throw hooked the anchor on to the rocks of an inlet.

That last fifty yards was the most dangerous. The only place you find rocks on Florida's Atlantic coast is when they are placed there to prevent erosion, or places like this, at an inlet. The rocks were dangerous. I couldn't swim to shore with them there without risking serious injury. And there was no way to safely pull the boat into the rocks with the light waves pushing the boat forward, then back as the calm wave became violent as it bounced off the rocks. What I did was to hook the anchor in the rocks the pull the boat in. I timed the last twenty feet as best I could with the wave, then pulled hard and fast. When the sail boat's bow touched the rock I stepped off the boat and on to the rocks. I'd timed it all pretty good, but the boat came forward a few more feet to give me a little nudge. That little nudge carried thousands of pounds of displacement and sent me sprawling into the rocks. The boat continued to be pounded against the rocks and would be destroyed in short order. I felt bad about destroying the boat. I'd also doubled my cuts, bruises and pain from the little nudge the boat had given me. Made me wonder about Karma. I destroyed the boat so as its last gesture it kicked my butt. I was ashore, but I was in pain and tore up again.