I recently turned 18, so my parents signed me up for driving school. When I showed up at the academy, I was surprised by the cars they had available for students to learn on. They told me to pick whichever I liked best, and I chose the Mercedes-Benz G500.
It was an ‘86 Renault Alliance. My dad would take me to random empty parking lots to practice. I remember all us kids in the neighborhood were about the same age and it was a major competition to see who could get their license first. I don’t remember who did. It wasn’t me.
Years later, when I was out of the military and starting college, my dad got me a ‘91 Nissan pickup. It was a manual transmission, and I didn’t know how to drive one. He said, “by the time you get it home, you’ll know how to drive a stick.” So I drove it home, and by the time I got it home, I still didn’t know how to drive a stick.