Like everyone else, my first driving experience was on my Dad’s lap steering our Plymouth Voyager (with “wood” paneling, natch) in an empty community college parking lot while he worked the pedals.

My actual first driving experience came when I was probably 12 or 13, up on my Aunt and Uncle’s farm in Minnesota. On a hilly dirt road my Aunt let me drive her beat-to-shit-but-still-somehow-running Subaru with a stick shift (5 speed? I don’t really remember). The second those automatic seat belts slid into place I felt like the coolest kid on the planet.

Of course, being a generally uncoordinated goofy fat kid at the time, steering while changing gears and providing pedal input was very difficult/impossible for me. I could shift, steer, or press a pedal, but not more than one of those things at a time. Unsurprisingly, this led to the car ending up in a ditch and my Uncle dragging it out with his tractor.

Overall, my Aunt and I remember the experience fondly, while my Uncle is still - to this day - mad that I trashed his Subaru almost 20 years ago.