One way to learn to drive is just, “Do it”. What I mean by that is the following:
1957 Plymouth
I was fifteen, not even old enough to have a driver’s license. If you can remember way back to 1959 or so, I was sitting close to my boyfriend, now husband, a/k/a Art. You see, in those days there was no consul to separate the seats. We were in the country, him driving with his arm around my shoulders, and me, of course, snuggling up close to him, as was the usual position for a boyfriend and girlfriend. He was handling the gas, I was to handle the steering. Continue reading
It was June 1981. I was more excited than nervous. The next day, I was going to the Department of Motor Vehicles for the road test for my driver’s permit. It was dark out when dad and I drove out of town to the DMV to practice the skills I would be demonstrating the next day. I pulled out of the parking lot at the same time that people were entering the local 
When I first was learning to drive, I remember that mom was at work, so Lisa got the privilege of taking me to the DMV for my temps. After I left the building, Lisa threw me the keys and said “Ok – drive me home.” 
