9pm, being picked up in my mom’s 1997 Corolla CE. Automatic, of course. Tired from winter guard practice and not expecting it in the slightest, she jumped out of the car and into the passenger seat as I walked up and told me to drive home. I was soon to start drivers ed, but had no permit as of then. I made it out of the school parking lot at least before she promptly screamed at me for left foot braking. I had no idea that was even a thing or it was bad. Two pedals, two feet, shit is logical as hell in an automatic. About a mile and a half later turning into our neighborhood, I got screamed at again for making a farmers turn.

Considering how my first lesson went and the fact that I wasn’t terribly keen on driving in the first place, (I came into car culture several years later) it’s a small miracle I ended up not only learning, but becoming an autocross and hillclimb racer. Somewhat abusive parents aren’t necessarily the best driving teachers. About 10 years later, I got her back by driving up a twisty mountain road at what I consider a safe and controlled speed but to her was utterly terrifying. I was repeatedly begged to slow down...I did not. Long story short, be nice to your kids, not only will we choose your nursing home, but we may end up as reasonably skilled drivers fully capable of torturing you right back.