My dad drank and drove almost every day unless he was so fall down drunk to do so. He would pick us up inebriated, and my mom just grabbed us kids and hopped into the car with him driving. I can recall this happening so often, it was the norm. One time, after we stayed at my grandmothers’ house (That’s where we went when he would beat the shit out of my mom and us, we went there often), he showed up and my mom could tell he was drunk, still, we hopped in and away we went. He went down Springdale street, and at the bottom, he went through the intersection, and missed the left turn, going between a street sign and a fire hydrant, over about 6 steps and finally getting back on the intended street (New Gower Street) and instead of stopping the car and us getting the hell out, we continued on home, luckily not killing us or anyone else for that matter.