Episode 01: Born into a Family of Chaos and Dreams

I was born into a family of four — my father, my mother, my younger sister, and me, the eldest son.

On the surface, we looked like an ordinary Japanese family.
But inside our home, there was always a quiet tension that never fully disappeared.

My Father

My father was a self-employed taxi driver.
During Japan’s bubble economy, business was good — so good that he even paid off our home loan completely.

He came from a wealthy family, and maybe because of that, he carried a strong sense of pride.
He was gentle toward his children, but with my mother, he often looked tired — quietly accepting her strong opinions, even when they felt unreasonable.

My father enjoyed drinking, and over time, alcohol became part of his daily life.
Even before the bubble burst, it was a routine — a small comfort at the end of a long day behind the wheel.
But after the economic collapse, that routine slowly turned into something he relied on more and more.
He began drinking more often, sometimes even before driving.
Looking back, it’s a miracle he never caused a serious accident.

Still, there was something good in him that never disappeared.
When my son — his first grandchild — was born, he suddenly cut back.
Perhaps he didn’t want to meet his grandson while intoxicated.
When he looked at my boy, his small eyes, once sharp and watchful, seemed to dissolve into the light of his smile.

He adored his grandson — though he never held him in his arms.
Maybe his legs, weakened by an old injury, made it hard for him to lift a child.
Or maybe he simply no longer trusted his own strength.
I’ll never know now.

A warm sunset over a suburban street, representing nostalgic family memories.

My Mother

My mother worked hard, but she carried her own struggles.
Looking back, I think pachinko may have been one of her ways to cope — though we didn’t have words for that back then.
When she was in a bad mood, no one could speak to her — not me, not my sister, and certainly not my father.

She wasn’t raised in wealth, so when my father was earning a lot during the bubble years, she tended to spend rather than save.
Even though we could have built a strong financial base, most of the money was gone before we realized it.

My mother had a sharp tongue — but she also had a strong will.
In her own way, she was trying to survive, even if it meant arguing every day.
As I grew older, I realized she was fighting loneliness more than anything else.

My Sister

My younger sister inherited my mother’s fiery personality.
She was emotional, quick to argue, and full of energy.
She often clashed with my mother, but deep down, they were very much alike — both strong, both stubborn, both survivors.

Eventually, my sister married a man who turned out to be one of the kindest people I’ve ever known — patient, calm, and understanding.
To be honest, I think he’s the only kind of man who could have truly handled her.

Looking Back

My childhood was far from peaceful.
But even in that house, there were moments of warmth — like the sound of my father’s taxi pulling into the driveway, or the faint smell of gasoline that lingered in the air.

Somehow, cars became my comfort — machines that never lied, never shouted, and never judged.
They responded honestly to how you treated them.
And that simple truth would later save my life.

The rear of the AE86 Trueno GT-APEX.