The dogs ferocious bark was deafening; I was certain I was going to be found. Instinctively, I threw open the dumpster knocking the dog to the ground, buying myself a few extra seconds to escape. With all my might, I took off running as fast as my legs would take me. In the distance, I heard sirens which were getting louder the closer they came. I knew I didn’t have much time to come up with a game plan. Just as I thought I was out of options, a Chevy Impala pulled up beside me. The windows were tinted, making it difficult to look inside. Petrified, I picked up the pace hoping I could outsmart them and somehow get away. With my heart pounding and mind racing, I thought I was a goner. Just when I assumed there was no possible escape, I heard one of my homies yell, “Get in.”
I didn’t waste a minute thinking who it could be; instead I yanked the back door open and threw my tired, beat up body inside. Lo and behold, it was “Stinky PJ” from my old hood and a few of his buddies out for a joy ride. They had no idea it was I, that was responsible for all the commotion, but they were excited to be a part of it. Always up for the adventure, PJ told me to duck and threw an old ragged towel over my body and off we sped. It had been months since our paths had crossed, I thought he was in the slammer. He was always on the wrong side of the law. What were the chances that he would be there to help? I couldn’t spend anytime questioning my luck; instead I had to come up with a plan, and quick.