In October 2000, my dad took my brother, sister, and I with him to pick up my mom from practice. It was about 8:00 PM and all three of us kids could not be left at home alone because we were too young to stay home alone. I was seven, my sister was eight, and my brother was five. He had been drinking, too much to drive anywhere. But he was persistent to go get my mom himself. We got into the truck and headed down the road. He took the long, scenic route. His window was down because he was smoking. Somewhere along the way, my brother and I fell asleep. Unfortunately, so did my dad. We hit a bridge, knocking us sideways into a mailbox. Then, because his window was down, he hit his head off a telephone pole, knocking his head down into the passenger’s side floor board. The truck kept going until we hit a house, where an elderly lady lived. The instant that we hit the house all three of us kids were awake and alert, confused at what happened. We screamed for my dad to wake up, but he just wouldn’t. Scared to death, we attempted getting out of the truck. The child locks were on the back doors so we had to climb over my dad to squeeze out of the small space between the jammed door and the cab. We ran to the door and screamed for help. The lady answered the door, realized what happened, and called 911. The ambulances were there a short time later, and my mom was notified and taken to the scene to make sure we were okay. My brother, sister, and I were okay, but my dad was not. He had to be life-flighted to Ruby Memorial Hospital. All three of us kids and my mom were taken by ambulance to the fire department to be checked out, and we received stuffed animals. While my dad was in the hospital, we had to stay at our grandparents’ house because my mom was at the hospital with my dad. He was there for four days, unconscious. On the fourth day, my dad passed away from brain damage. All because of alcohol and the unwise decision to drive after drinking, my father is no longer here with me and my family.