My dad was an irresponsible hot rod guy, he taught me to drive when I was 12. He would get drunk and let me drive him around. Or he'd go buy a project car and I'd drive his truck home.
As a direct result of my long deceased father's incessant ordering-I took a combination classroom/on the roads driver's education course-in my sophomore year of high school in Urbandale, Iowa-from age 16 years and 5 months-in August of 1981 until I was 16 years/10 months-in January of 1982-when-after having passed both the written AND "on the road" driver's tests-and a small paid fee-I received my Iowa driver's license.
Ironically-after all of that incessant ordering from my perpetually angry, psychologically anal retentive father-he REFUSED to let me drive EITHER of the two family cars during my remaining time living with a several member emotionally dysfunctional family.
After I moved BACK to Houston, Texas in June of 1982-at the age of 17-via surrendering my never used IOWA driver's license-and taking a written list-I received a TEXAS driver's license. I drove frequently from September of 1982 until November of 1983.
This story is getting a little LONG-isn't it?
Anyway-when my mother and I moved from Houston, Texas to Pleasanton, California (about 30 miles east of San Francisco)-I legally acquired a CALIFORNIA driver's license.
I didn't drive much though-only to "run" errands such as grocery shopping and taking our two dogs-one male/one female-to and from the veterinarian's medical office/facility.
As I had done frequently in Houston, Texas from Monday morning, January 7'th, 1985 until Friday evening, March 24'th, 1989-from ages 20 to 24-I rode the buses to various places.
I did the same in the San Francisco Bay Area from April, 1989 until July, 1996-from ages 24 to 31.
Additionally-I rode the BART-Bay Area Regional Transit-commuter trains-on an infrequent basis.
Passed my first driving test, probably written at 14 and took drivers ed in summer school.
moved that summer to Louisiana where the driving age was 15. After my 15th birthday I took a driving test that had to be the shortest on record. one block turn left around median, one block back, turn left back to driving test location, parallel park. I passed.
2 years later I took my third driving test in rush hour traffic in downtown Vancouver and passed.
I was 30. I worked 10 minutes walk from my house so I didn't need a car. It was only when the need to visit other offices came about that I learned to drive.
My situation was very similar to yours, I was over forty with two kids and living in a smaller city when I finally learned. I remain the only driver in my immediate family!
My 13th birthday was looming, and the pressure of getting older bore down harder than ever before. I had to clear my head.
This night, my mind was made up. My parents finally went to sleep.
I splashed on a handful of dad's Hai Karate aftershave and crept downstairs; slipping the keys off their hook. Quietly rolling the tiny silver K-Car out of the driveway and hit the streets.
Ten years as a little back seat driver had taught me all I required.
For the next two years, those midnight drives - just me and the open road - was the essence of freedom. Sunroof open, radio tuned, and a grape soda in the cup holder.
Cruising the vacant city to late night radio classics like Careless Whisper, You Belong to The City, or Lionel's All Night Long.
My mustache was coming in, and along with my father's sport coat and clumsy Ray Ban's, I passed for a young licensed driver - at a glance in the dark. 2 or 3 throw pillows put me at the approximate height to see over the dashboard.
I knew better than to speed, or make abrupt stops or lane changes that might attract attention. I simply followed what everyone else was doing.
Police cars would pass, glancing casually, and proceed onward.
The drives were never more than 2 hours at most, as I had school in the morning. Spelling was our first lesson, so I needed to be sharp.
The car, and me; were safely tucked away again for the night.
And to this day, no one is the wiser.
My mother did begin, however, to chastise my father for wearing too much aftershave whenever he took the car.
@Achelois No. I remember doing the big shop for Christmas once on the bus. I think we had 7 or 8 bags each. A couple of pounds for a taxi just seemed too much 😅
I was 13. I would pull the trailer back from the boat ramp after launching the boat. I was also the dedicated go getter at the fish camp. The store even let me buy beer and smokes for my folks…
