We used to do that. Cookout at a rest stop on road trips. Then Dad would stretch out on the front seat and listen to the radio while Mom found something for me to do while she went over to see the big rig trucks. Mom like the trucks.
I'd play with the grill fire a while, get smart with nosy nellies who wanted to know why I wasn't in school. One lady I told her I was a midget and I thought she had a nice ass. Another I told her my Dad was an undercover cop and he testified in a big cop case and now the bad guys put a real price on his head, so we were on the lam. That lady interrupted Dad to ask him something, and when Dad woke up he told her to mind her own damn business. Then he told me to knock off the shit.
Most evenings the battery would go dead, but Dad kept a spare in the trunk, and I knew how to swap it out. So I'd swap it out while Mom cooked dinner on the grill. Sometimes Dad would go out after dinner and 'borrow' a little gas from a trucker, usually a dump truck because they have gasoline engines. You should have seen the time Dad got diesel by mistake and poured it in our tank! Boy, did he get creative with his swearing that time. Daddy could really turn the air blue when he wanted, and I think it was six shades that night.
But then Dad got a job at Jeep and Mom welded her butt to the sofa, and the welfare people made me go to school. But it wasn't so bad, because it turns out that the kids at school didn't know anything hardly, so I started up a crap game in the gym locker and branched out into hall passes and pot, and it was a sweet deal for a while.
I kind of miss the old carny days, moving from show to show, the girls at the kootch tent, old Smokestack Smiley that ran the ring toss and Handles Harry that had the roll down. But that's life, I guess.