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Running away from home ain’t what it used to be.


Batesmotel
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A buddies 14 year old stepson “ran away from home”. He had a big fight with his mom and split. 
 

Had his phone with him so they could track him. He won’t talk to mom but he will text back to his stepdad. He used mom’s Amazon account to buy a swimsuit, underwear, shirts and sandals. Had them delivered to his friends house.  Used the family Door-Dash account to buy food and had it delivered to his friends house.

Not exactly like I remember it.

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First time I was 5 or 6 years old and I packed up my wagon and left. Mom thought it was funny and took a picture of me packing then went inside to call a friend and laugh about it. By the time she came back I was gone. It took them hours to find me. I had almost made it a mile and a half. I knew a friend of mine lived basically north of me. I got stuck in a dead end neighborhood or I would have made it. That’s where they found me. 

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I was 3.  It was winter.  And nighttime.  The snow was a foot deep.  I was dressed in a long flannel nightgown, barefoot.  I’d packed my little bitty suitcase full of Weeblos and my security blanket.  I have no idea where I was going, but it was going to be far away from everyone!!!

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I never ran away from home.  I suspect that if I ever did, no one would know.  I started this in Cub Scouts so I was pretty young.  My parents wanted me to be independent.

I always took off camping on my own on my bicycle, typically about 7 miles out in the country for a couple days over a weekend.  Some weekends in the Summer I would hitch hike all over the state.  I met wonderful people. 

The best people I ever met anywhere were the Minnesota Highway Patrol. 

They were gentlemen and respectful to me.  Many times when stuck in the boonies they would stop and take me to the nearest town for another ride, with the admonition to, "Be careful".

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I took off several times between 10 and 14. Usually to a friend or my uncles place. I worked for him anyway at our gas stations. I just couldn’t live with my moms crap.

When I turned 14 my friend got his first car and we were always gone fishing or hunting. Sometimes for a week to ten days at a time. No contact with home. When I got my first truck at 16 it got worse. I had little reason to be home. It sucked there. 
 

When I join the Marines I didn’t even tell my mom. Just left one day. She found out as my recruiter picked me up to take me to the airport. 

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12 hours ago, Batesmotel said:

First time I was 5 or 6 years old and I packed up my wagon and left. Mom thought it was funny and took a picture of me packing then went inside to call a friend and laugh about it. By the time she came back I was gone. It took them hours to find me. I had almost made it a mile and a half. I knew a friend of mine lived basically north of me. I got stuck in a dead end neighborhood or I would have made it. That’s where they found me. 

I packed up the Radio Flyer a couple of times, myself.  Mom laughed, which really pissed me off.

I hid out in the "north 40" for a couple of days.

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My best friend had a pretty rough home life.  At the beginning of middle school,  he decided he had to get out.

Our plan was to build go-karts, and drive them to his grandmother's house.  In Ohio.  We were going to drive on the streets at night and sleep during the day.

We had engines, and wheels, sprockets, chain, axles....

But we only had 2x4s and plywood for the frames...

We spent a long summer redesigning and rebuilding karts that couldn't even make it to the end of the street.

Ohio eluded us.

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