I don't know how old I was when my parents started taking me to break into places. There are several that I can remember, but I don't know how many I don't remember so there's no telling. It really was crazy! Who takes their 12 year old to break into a club and then as a reward let the child pick what Cd's they can steal? This is what we did though. We stole things. Lots of things.
I remember being with my father and prying off the metal siding on a gas station that had just gone out of business. He cut a whole in the sheet rock and we just went in and filled the bags and got out. Mostly stealing cigarettes and things that could be resold at the flea market.
The other night time favorite was trashing a rich neighborhood that was near us. I am still unsure what my father had against them other than a couple girls from there made fun of me in elementary school. We would take giant bags of trash at 3 in the morning and dump them down the main road through their neighborhood. One time my father went as far as getting a gallon of paint and throwing it on the neighborhood name sign.
The biggest memory I have I can't figure out if I remember it because it was so crazy or because it was the only time I remember my dad messing something up. Usually his plans were well calculated and went smoothly. Only this time it was like he had done no planning at all.
The plan was simple. Break into the concession stand at the local ball field that happened to be owned by the mayor. Get anything of value, cut back through the woods to the car, and leave. Well before I tell you what happened I want to point out two things. One, I was maybe 12 and two the ball field was behind the fire department. He might as well of said lets rob the fire department. Okay so we made it through the woods just fine. We were wearing our dark clothes and gloves. We approached the concession stand and glanced down at the fire department which seemed quiet as expected in the middle of the night. Well the door had a lock on it. Simple enough, cut the lock. So he did. Then he pulled the door open and that's when it happened. We heard a small beep, beep, beep. The sound that I now know is the alarm system giving you a minute to put the alarm code in. The second my father heard it he only said one word. RUN! By the time we made it back to the woods the soft Beep, Beep, Beep had turned into a blaring horn echoing through the woods we ran through. The next sound I heard was the sound of men yelling and what sounded like a dog. My dad reinforced my fear it was a dog and told me to not look back and not to stop because there was a dog not far behind us. The woods were awful to run through. I constantly felt prickly bushes scratching my skin. My father stayed behind me (slightly to his credit) so that if the dog caught up with us it would grab him first. He instructed me on what way to turn. We made it out of the woods that night and back to the car. I remember feeling a little disappointed when we got back in the car that they didn't catch us. Maybe that could have been the end of all the crap, but they didn't.
Now when I visit my home town I have to drive by that location. I look at the woods and they are maybe 3 football fields long if that. In the middle of the night to a 12 year old little girl those woods felt like they were miles long.