I have many memories of traveling as a child. My family never really moved anywhere, but we would go on a lot of road trips. One time we drove to Florida. Another time Virginia. One time we even went to North Carolina as a family of five in a 1991 Blue/Green, Geo Prizm Sedan. I have a lot of pleasant childhood memories of road trip vacations.
My parents would also take us on “mini-vacations.” A lot of my favorite memories are in a hotel, waking up early on a Saturday morning to go to the hotel’s pool. These weekends were not anything special. We were not visiting Disney World or anything, but we would spend time together as a family. They were great.
One time were were on one of these road trips. I’m not sure if we were going out of state, or traveling to go on a mini-weekend-vacation, but I do remember a small part of the journey.
Once upon a time, my family owned a red van. My family would spend time in this van going very fast. Every now and again, this van would have to slow down and come to a stop to refuel before it could go fast again.
We stopped at a gas station. I was young, about five or six years old. Since I was young, I asked my dad for permission to go into the gas station with him.
My parents tell me I was a polite little boy.
My dad agreed to let me go inside.
This gas station was amazing! Well, actually, it was just like any other gas station. They had coffee, windshield wipers, overpriced toys, cigarettes with a camel that appealed to children because it was the 1990’s, and candy. I did not want windshield wipers or cigarettes, but candy was something that I really liked.
For my entire life, if I ever wanted something, I would ask my parents for it. If they said no, I would ask again with a “pretty please.” If I was lucky enough to coax my dad into getting a toy or whatever, I would ask my dad if I could open it in the car before I got home. Dad would always say, “No.” I would always go, “Awwww.” Most of the time he let me open it in the car, even though it made a mess.
I’m not sure what was going through my mind during this visit to the gas station. I decided that I wanted a candy bar... and I wasn’t going to ask for permission to take it. I was just going to take it.
I knew it was wrong. You could tell by my actions that I knew it was wrong to take the candy bar without asking for it, or paying for it.
Carefully, I hid behind the candy bar display and grabbed the candy bar. I then, promptly, ran out of the store into the red van.
Once my dad got into the van, I remember him saying something to my Mom that I will never ever forget.
“The person behind the counter saw some little boy steal a candy bar. It’s okay though, because he called the cops and they on their way to catch him and take him to jail.”
I was terrified.
After a lot of sobbing, I later found out that he saw me steal the candy bar and paid for it after I ran outside. To be honest, I don’t remember a speech about “how stealing is bad” from my father. He may have talked with me about it, but I don’t remember that.
What I do remember are those haunting words that will forever be in my brain. To a little boy, hearing that the cops are coming after you and that you are going to jail once they catch you is a terrifying thought.
I have never, and will never, forget this. Since this moment if I ever had the slightest thought about stealing something, I remembered this event. I remembered how scared I was, and I remembered that the cops would come after me and I would go to jail if I ever stole anything. Ever.
Thank you Dad, for keeping me out of jail.
