Dad has been drinking since he was a teenager and has been drinking for more than forty years, and it is not too much to tell the story of his drinking in an afternoon.
The earliest memory comes from a New Year's Day. That day, it was surprisingly cold, and my grandmother's family killed the New Year's pig and let our family eat it. My second uncle worked in the city and commuted by train back and forth every day, and my father happened to work at the train station.
On that day, we came as promised. Without exception, my dad was very drunk. On the way home, my dad was riding a bicycle, and I sat behind him, and the bicycle swayed left and right, like a greedy snake, but it didn't go in a straight line, and it didn't even fall, and it maintained a dynamic balance like a tumbler. Thankfully, there were very few cars on the road, and even if they were, they were bicycles, and the cyclists avoided us from a distance.
The cool breeze was blowing, the wine was strong, my father threw up while riding, my mother and I asked him to stop and vomit, he was still stubborn, and he had to insist on going home.
When I got home, I got out of the car and looked: my dad's vomit had frozen on the brakes and handlebars of the bicycle, and the vegetable leaves, meat puree, and pig blood sausage were frozen on the handlebars, from the dinner table to my dad's stomach, and then to the handlebars, and they were reunited. That scene will never be forgotten.
Another time, Dad went out to dinner with friends, left at noon, and didn't come back until the stars and moon came up in the evening - let his friends come back with him. As soon as I entered the house, I threw up all at once, my mother endured the nausea and cleaned up, and my father wanted to vomit again, so my mother drove him to the yard. Sitting on the ground, he threw up again and again, and kept shouting that he was not drunk, so angry that my mother poured a basin of cold water. Fortunately, it was summer, and Dad sat in the yard for half the night, and did not go back to sleep until he woke up.
My little milk dog licked my father's vomit and was also dizzy, walking and shaking, and it took a bottle of water to recover.
The list goes on and on. My mom and my dad have been arguing for more than 30 years over drinking! Continue to drink after arguing, and then quarrel after drinking, just like cyclic decimals in mathematics, 31616…, 1 and 6 repeat.
After work, I started buying alcohol for my father, and it was good wine. After improving his taste, he went out to drink in moderation, and there was no longer a time when he was drunk.
Five years ago, my father had a cerebral infarction, and since then, he has not drunk a single drop, and everyone is amazed by his perseverance and determination.