He pulled up, the car was a metal death trap and mom hated us being in the car with him. Us being my brother and myself, and him being the reason we were born. Now see I get it times are getting tough, or at least some would say, but why not fix up your car? I mean at least clean up the inside before driving your kids in it.

We'd fly down the road. Dad wasn't one for looking at the speed limit, let alone careing if he was doing it. He would tell us he was going to meet a friend. Now dad had a lot of friends. They were very nice when you met them, but deep down you knew that those were the type of people your parents told you not to hangout with.
We'd drive, it would be a good few hours till we'd meet up with these 'friends'. Dad was always doing jobs for them, and they'd have to pay him.
We would pull up to a gas station,
kinda in the middle of nowhere, sucluded from whatever town you happend to be in. Dad would get out of the car and tell us to stay in it, or tell us to get a treat inside and he'd meet us inside.
These trips seemed to happen more and more every time we'd visit my dad. Then all of a sudden they stopped, and we stopped seeing dad.

A few weeks being father-less mom told us our dad was in rehab. Those jobs our dad did, never were jobs, Drug deals. So I asked my self, what if something went wrong? What if they didn't pay dad? What if they had a gun and shot dad? We would be stranded at a random gas station not knowing where we were and there would be a drug dealer running around with a gun. Soon nightmares would come with these what if questions and mom had to take me to therapy.
The therapist would ask, 'do you blame your father', and as much as I did blame my father for putting me in those situations I couldn't help but be mad that she would ask such a question. I would shake my head no, and the session would continue.
I've come to find, that Charmed life I had, well it was just covered by something to big for me to understand.