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 →