lol.
Driving lessons with my father was him parking halfway up a gravel hill in a big orange 1977 stick shift no power steering station wagon & my 2 little brothers in the back seat. And telling me to get in and drive... and my little brothers screeching "she's gonna kill us" and falling all over the place everytime the car lurched.
I think it took me about an hour to get up that hill. It took a while to realize that my legs were too short to actually push the clutch all the way in with the seat all the way forward. From then on, I had to wear platform shoes for driving lessons.
Poor man had to replace the clutch in that behemouth shortly thereafter. And forced me to help him.
He left it to the drivers ed instructors to teach me how to drive an automatic.
I remember carpooling with him in rush hour traffic a couple of times the first year I was driving - he used to sit and count how many cars passed me vs. how many I passed and give me my grade at the end of the ride.





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