This was the entrance to the trailer park that Kim (Kimball) lived in. In the summer of 1978, when I was 9 years old, between 3rd and 4th grade, I rode my bike in great anticipation, in the hope of seeing this adult friend of mine that would spend time with me and let me hang out with him and read his comic books and let me play with his cool model train set. He had a REAL model train set, die cast metal ones at 1/25th scale or whatever, they were BIG, and he had an elaborate setup for the trains to run on. Models of train stations, water towers, people, fences, bushes, all carefully airbrushed and with fine detail. Sometimes he would be home, sometimes he wouldn't. If I saw his truck in the driveway, I was so happy. I felt important, like I belonged. I had a friend.

So, after riding up only a few blocks from the park entrance, I would turn to the left and see weather or not he was there.

This is where it happened. His old late-60's model trailer has since been moved and scrapped, but this is where it happened. This is where, towards the front of the lot near the street, I was playing with his train set. It was in this front bedroom with the train set, that he "probed" me to see if I would say anything when he touched me. There was, coincidentally, only one stool to sit on, so I naturally sat on his lap. (Oh he was soooo clever!!) He would "conveniently" rest his hand on my private area to see what I would say. I remember a couple times having actually MOVED his hand off my privates area, but his hand would always make it back there. I now see exactly what he was doing. Much like a shark bump, see if your prey has a defense or can hurt you back, alas, I had none.

Towards the back of this lot, is where he would talk this 9 year old boy into letting him unzip his pants. This is where a 9 year old boy was being talked into sucking an older mans dick. This is where a 9 year old boy stopped feeling good about himself ever again.

This is the place that this 9 year old boy stopped coming to, because he got sick of putting up with the unwanted sexual bullshit just to have a friend. But it was too late, the damage was already done.

No, there are no good feelings about having done this. No, there is no sense of closure.