When I was about 6 years old (circa 1970), my 4 yr old brother and I managed to sneak into the front seat of the family station wagon as it sat parked in our inclined driveway - me in the driver’s seat and him on the passenger side. Back in those days, you didn’t need a key to change gears, and as one would suspect, once I shifted into neutral, the car proceeded to roll backwards down the hill, the two of us screaming hysterically as it did. I knew enough to try the brake, but, IIRC, pumped it into non-functional mode. Luckily, a neighbor witnessed the debacle, opened the driver side door, and managed to steer the car away from the middle of the street as it careened off a tree.
I’m sure many of you have stories about a parent or older sibling/relative letting you get behind the wheel when you were a young’n, or have one similar to mine?
My parents were the law abiding type. No sneaky driving for me.
But my grandmother had an interesting one. She was 13 (So this was 1929) and out at her grandparents farm. Her Grandfather took ill, and her Grandmother not only didn’t drive but was scared to death of automobiles. Grandma was the eldest and drove the 15 miles/ 23 km into town, mainly in first gear. She took Grandpa and Grandma to the hospital, and then went to the police station and turned her self in for driving underage.
The police officer had her drive around the parking lot, back up, park, etc and wrote her out a hand written permission to drive.
When she turned 80 she opted to not drive anymore rather than take a test. This woman drove from 1929 until 1996 without ever taking any other driver’s test.
The day after I got my license it snowed. I was driving a friend home in my mid-80s Chevy Luv and I completely overcompensated on a left turn and started sliding into the opposite lane, then overcompensated turning right and drove off the street and up a small hill/someone’s lawn. My friend was screaming my name, I was a little shaky but we were otherwise fine. I didn’t hit anyone, all the other drivers around me stopped and nothing else happened other than me backing up off the lawn and making my lucky ass down the street.
I learned a lot in those few moments. After that, I fully understood how a vehicle can lose control in slippery conditions and I’ve never had an incident like that again. I never quite understand how people can completely shut down when there’s a little snow on the road. Yep, it’s slippery and you have to compensate for that, but you don’t lose your mind at first snowfall.
The first car I drove was a Model A Ford. In 1972!
I had a really cool Uncle Harold. He was an adventurer, hobby farmer and wannabe cowboy. When I was maybe 14 he let me drive his 1930 Ford on his farm. It was totally roadworthy and its big wheels made it very practical for driving around the fields.
About a year later he let me drive his tractor pulling a disc; pretty low risk as long as you know how to stop.
Not exactly driving, but I was probably 8 or 9 when my dad taught me how to put the clutch in, release the emergency brake and roll the car backwards down the driveway, keeping my other foot on the break so I didn’t go out into the street. All so we could play basketball in the driveway (hoop over garage door) without having to wait for him to move the cars. This would be mid/late 70’s.
I let the handbrake off in my mother’s 1980ish Mercedes 240E when I was about five. She left me in it while she ran inside a shop to grab something. The parking area was on a grade and it rolled down the hill into the window of a jeweller’s. Fortunately, nothing was damaged except the window and they didn’t ask her to pay for it.
I spent some time every summer on the great-grandparents’ farm, so I learned early how to ‘drive’ farm machinery, including the farm pick up. Then, when my father was close to being unable to drive due to his illness, he taught me to drive the family car. My mother never learned to drive, so he decided someone needed to be able to drive in case of an emergency.
I was raised in an agricultural state where at that time one could still acquire a driving license at the age of 14, so shortly after my father died, I was a licensed driver with my own car.
I was four and my brother was five years old. We had a car that needed to be towed to the mechanic. My father hooked up a tow chain, to tow the disabled car.
He instructed my brother to steer the car. He couldn’t reach the brakes. My job was to sit on the floor board and push the brake when signaled by my brother.
It didn’t turn out well. I didn’t have the strength to push in the brake with my hands. Should have used my foot, but didn’t know any better.
Never remembered this disaster until this thread. Unfortunately my father and brother are no longer around to laugh about this Three Stooges event.
Pretty much like the OP, sans brother, I was about 5 or 6, fortunately the driveway wasn’t too steep so I just slowed rolled into the ditch on the opposite side of the street. Side road so no traffic. But I still remember my panicky attempts to try to steer, brake, and honk the horn at the same time.
I was a city kid but we had farming family I was sent to for all school breaks. I would have been four or five when my uncle started sitting me up on piles of found items, throwing a brick on the accelerator for me to push and standing on the tray of the ancient ute throwing out feed as I sort of drove around (he would lean in the window to correct steering if needed). As I got bigger he helped less and then came motorbikes and tractors.
I’ve never taken a driving test. I had a Wisconsin learner’s permit (written test only) when I went to college in Louisiana. When I arranged a ride home for holidays, I was asked if I could help drive, and I said I had no license. So he took me around to get one. The examiner glanced at my Wisconsin permit, printed me out a proper regular Louisiana DL (gotta love Louisiana), and I was good to go. That was 60 years ago, and I’ve never taken a drivers test behind the wheel yet.
I was in about fifth grade. There was an electrical contractor in the neighborhood, and one Friday evening we found that someone had left the keys in one of the service trucks. We were afraid to take it out on the street but we ran it out of gas driving it around the parking lot.
My first drive was not noteworthy, I was with my Dad and just like my other 6 siblings he took us over to the local college on a Sunday to practice on their roads.
My first solo drive once I had my license was a small disaster, I had never driven a stick shift before and had inherited by older brothers 56 chevy with 3 on the column. I lost control trying to make a turn and work the clutch and stick at the same time, I ran up over the curb but didn’t hit anything. Smooth sailing from that point on.
I had no interest in learning to drive. My parents took me to the DMV to get my learner’s permit as soon as I was old enough, but I didn’t care to take the wheel. I don’t think I went out more than once or twice before it expired.
I still don’t have any love for driving. It’s just a chore to me.
I was about 9. My dad bought my brother an I an old Subaru 360 ragtop, which was missing. It was a 3 speed, and we were only allowed to drive it in the pasture on the farm. We would pile our friends in it (sometimes 8 or 9) and tool around in the pasture going the max speed, about 45 mph, no seatbelts. Lucky no one was ever killed.
Ah! The Great East Georgia Mailbox Apocalypse of '79. I remember it well.
I was 12 when my mother started teaching me to drive. Mostly on back and dirt roads. I must have knocked down 3~5 mailboxes that first day. Probably another 5 in the weeks that followed, though I’m sure some must have been repeats. I still chuckle sometimes when I see a mailbox posted too close to an intersection.
When I was in 8th grade, I spent the night with a few friends at one of their houses. One guy had the brilliant idea to take his mom’s car out for a drive-- I had absolutely no clue how to drive at the time. We actually made it a fair distance away with no issues but everyone was hooting and hollering so much in the backseat, eventually he ran off the road and drove into a cornfield. We made it back in one piece and I laugh about it to this day, but it’s amazing to think how much worse that COULD’VE turned out!
Another tractor first timer. But at least it was on a road. Sitting on my grampa’s lap, I took over steering when we went down the road to another farm.
Other stuff around farms later: home built go karts, small motorcycles, etc.
I think my first car driving was in driver’s ed in high school. Not exactly memorable, of course.
