My dad had a van for his business. On weekends, he'd take out all his tools and gear from the back and we'd go to the beach. Since the van only had two seats in the front, with no seat belts, he'd put patio chairs in the back of the van for us to sit on. If we ever got rowdy or whinged too much, he'd either brake, accelerate or swerve, sending us flying in the back. We laugh about it now but these days, he'd probably get arrested, despite us never getting hurt.
I grew up in Australia so fish and chips were the best thing too. Wrapped in newspaper, of course. We'd sneak out of the schoolyard once a week, to the local chippy around the corner. Things always taste best when forbidden. We'd toss our sandwiches in the bin or feed them to the magpies. When we got caught, we'd get the stick for punishment, and not do it again. For a few weeks.