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Eric J Herrholz

Cold Nights in a Broke Down Car

In the vast sprawl of the 1980s Midwest, with its raucous city lights and concrete promises, I found myself beneath the sky's canopy at a KOA campground, nestled within the shell of a Buick Regal.


The Regal was no luxury suite—it was a sanctuary on four wheels, a place where no one sought but where I found solace. The campground was mostly empty and dark full of anonymity, where the neon highway sign flickered like the ghosts of dreams deferred.


The nights were crisp and filled with the quiet hum of distant traffic, interrupted by the occasional rustle of leaves or the murmur of late-night conversations from other campers. The Buick’s worn seats cradled me as I lay, staring at the ceiling, trying to piece together the jigsaw puzzle of my life.


Chicago, with its skyline painted in industrial hues, loomed in the distance. It was a city of possibilities and disappointments, a place where everyone rushed towards something, often leaving behind those who couldn't keep up.


I was 16, carrying the weight of losing my father in my arms at 13. The pain of that moment was a constant companion, a shadow that never left. My time in juvenile detention had hardened me, but it also left scars that society seemed eager to exploit. Life had been unkind, and I was too much for my mom to handle. She tried, but the burden was heavy, and I was left to navigate the world on my own.


The Buick Regal was everything I owned. It was out of service, so I kept it at the campground for thirty dollars a month and stealthily returned at night to sleep in it and use the showers. During the day, I endeavored to maintain a semblance of normalcy by attending high school, a stark contrast to my nightly struggle for survival.

Eric J Herrholz Buick Regal
CALLED IT HOME


The Buick’s windows fogged with my breath as I scribbled down thoughts and dreams in a dog-eared notebook. It was a transient life, fleeting but poignant. Every night in the KOA campground was a reminder that while the world moved on, I was there—paused, reflecting, and surviving in the quiet embrace of solitude.


It's a chapter of life etched in steel and glass, where the story of an unwanted teen unfolded beneath the indifferent gaze of the stars.


ERIC J HERRHOLZ - ALONE
Abandoned As a Teenager

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