Sleeping in an abandoned car

I found an old car without wheels or windows and slept there many nights. That winter was brutal. I ate whatever I could find. I knocked on doors asking for work—cutting wood, carrying stones, anything. Often there was nothing.

Yes, I stole bread once. I’m not proud of it, but the hunger was unbearable. That kind of hunger never leaves you.

The workshop and endless labor

Eventually, I found work in a small workshop. The owner let me sleep there and gave me something to eat. I worked from sunrise to sunset, every day.

He was strict but fair. He never hit me, which in those times meant a great deal.

Realizing something had to change

Years passed like that—just surviving, never thinking about the future. Then one day, I understood something clearly: if I kept going like this, this would be my entire life.

It wasn’t a sudden revelation. It was simply the truth. I realized how little I knew, and that those who could read and write well had more possibilities.

Discovering reading

I began reading slowly. It was hard. Many words made no sense. But there was a small library in a nearby town, run by an elderly woman named Doña Carmen.

She taught me how to use a dictionary, explained words, and let me stay longer than allowed. One day she gave me a small pocket dictionary. I carried it for years.

Reading didn’t make me rich, but it opened my mind.

Military service and learning the basics

Then came military service. For me, it wasn’t terrible. I ate three meals a day, slept in a real bed, and learned more—writing, math, history, geography.

I finished with a basic certificate. It wasn’t much, but it mattered.

Work, family, and a modest life

After that, I worked wherever I could—factories, warehouses, shops. Some places closed, others didn’t last. That was life.

I met my wife at a village festival. We were together for 62 years. She’s gone now, but the memory remains. We had three children. They never went hungry, and they all went to school. That alone makes me proud.

I opened a small repair shop. It never grew big, but it kept us afloat. Some years were very hard—we nearly lost everything more than once—but we endured.

What others might call little, I considered a lot.
We ended up with our own apartment, with heating. For someone who once slept in a windowless car, that was enormous.

I was never wealthy. I didn’t expect to be. But we survived.

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