A friend posted recently that she was going to have to learn how to drive a standard, and it reminded me about my experience learning to drive. The only cars we had when I was learning to drive were standards, so I had no choice. My parents house is fairly close to a reservoir. So my first lesson in driving, my mom took me up there in our sporty little red ’89 Nissan Sentra (complete with moon roof.) She pulled into the little peninsula there, and got out, instructing me to get into the driver’s seat. Now let me stress here, that this was a peninsula, meaning surrounded on three sides by the reservoir. We went over the driving instructions again, turn on the car, check, keep your foot on the break, check, push in the clutch, check, shift…you know the way it goes (I’m not sure if I still do, I’ve been driving an automatic for too long now!) Then my mom says to me in her sarcastic but serious manner, “Don’t screw up, or we’ll be in the lake.” Way to hold off on the pressure, Mom! Thankfully, we didn’t go swimming that day. I think I stalled at the tip of the peninsula, but recovered and drove the rest of the way home. My mom and I had many an argument while she was teaching me to drive. I always liked to drive with my dad. He wasn’t nearly as excitable as my mom, except for the time I backed his truck into a ditch. Usually though, he’d pick me up from my job on his way home from work, and let me drive all the way home, while he fell asleep in the passenger seat. That was my preferred method of learning to drive.