My Life with Bonnie and Clyde by Blanche Caldwell Barrow, John Neal Phillips

off to find a cable so we could pull our car back onto the highway. He wanted Buck to leave the car where it wasand for us to get in his car and get away before the wreck was reported. But Buck told him he didn’t want to leave it there. He thought leaving it would get us hot in that part of the country and we wanted to stay as cool down there as we could. Buck and I both liked Florida a lot. We had visited there once before, prior to Buck’s return to prison. 2 We were thinking about staying there for a while once we got to Jacksonville. But we couldn’t do that if we got hot.
    Buck was sure we could somehow get the car back on the highway. But Clyde was mad because Buck was getting friendly with the two fellows who stayed behind to help. They seemed to be pretty good sports and Buck didn’t think they would get too nosey or call the law.
    Buck had me get in the car, start the motor, and try to get the car moving while everybody else pushed. One of the men helping us was beside the car, where he could look in and see the guns. He told me to cover them up with something just in case someone else stopped to ask questions about the wreck, so they wouldn’t see the guns. I had thought they were covered but somehow the covering had slipped off.
    When we finally got the car back on the highway we found that it still ran fairly good; and the dents in the fender and top weren’t so noticeable, although it was a new car and those places didn’t look too good. Otherwise, it was okay and we could still travel in it. But Buck could hardly drive because his hand had been pinched so badly. Consequently, I drove quite a lot. Buck only drove when we stopped in, or passed through, large towns. And even though we felt safe enough to stop and sleep at tourist camps whenever we wished, we still did a lot of driving at night.
    We continued on to Jacksonville, but did not stay there as we had planned. Instead, we turned north and drove along the Atlantic coast. We stopped at a small town, Cumberland, Georgia, I believe, 3 and went in bathing and playing around up and down the beach. Then we tried to rent a furnished house for the summer, but Clyde and Buck couldn’t agree on which place to take and got into another argument. After that, Buck got drunk. He didn’t want to leave, so he and Clyde split up. Shortly after that, Clyde and Bonnie left town.
    I was glad we were going to be alone, but my hopes were soon shattered. Buck kept drinking and talking so loud that people would stop and stare at us. I begged him to be quiet and told him we would have every cop in town after us. Before I knew it, we were arguing. He wanted to stop right on the street and fight. I was almost mad enough to fight too, but I tried to reasonwith him instead. Finally I told him to drive to the country and let me out, that I was through if he couldn’t do any better than that. I didn’t want to stay with him any longer.

    “We . . . went in bathing and playing around up and down the beach. . . . Buck and I both liked Florida a lot.” (Photograph by Buck Barrow, courtesy of Rhea Leen Linder)
    At first he said, “Okay. If you want to leave, then go ahead and get out now.” But when I started to go he changed his mind and told me to get back in the car. I refused. With that, he started talking so loud that I had to get in with him. I wouldn’t have left anyway, but I was still mad.
    Suddenly Clyde and Bonnie drove up. I don’t know why but they had come back to look for us, saying they had looked the town over for us. Clyde told Buck he had seen some motorcycle cops riding in town and they seemed to be checking all cars on the road. Since there was only one road leading in or out of town, he thought it best to get away while we still could. If they ever blocked the road, we would have to jump into the ocean or die fighting.
    When we were out of town Buck began begging me not to leave. I was still mad and insisted I would leave him. I told him to just