When I taught K-Bug, we had the empty Naval Air Station

Which is exactly where Emmett is working now, out by the hangers and the USS Hornet.

I learnt to drive navigating the dark and slightly damp roads of Grosse Pointe before sunrise, while my second cousin reviewed patient charts in the passenger seat.

It was really ridiculously unsupervised, and also dodgy driving conditions for someone who'd made it past twenty without a license, and was almost ten years past her last driving lesson.

I am incredibly grateful that neither of my parents taught me to drive--they'd both be horrible teachers and I'd have been a horrible student, and other people's lives would have been on the line.

My dad taught me the basics when I was 17, in a parking lot in town. Then I had a boyfriend who decided he would take over, and let me drive his mom's car (I'm glad that didn't backfire). It was a bad summer -- my mom was in and out of the hospital, and Dad got to a point where he would hand me the car keys and tell me just to be careful and not get pulled over (since I didn't actually have my license yet).

I *love* to drive, too. Anyone needs a ride, call me. Not that I can always guarantee a working vehicle, but still.

My dad taught me the basics when I was 12, in case of an emergency. Dad taught at the local community college, so we just borrowed one of their parking lots during a low-traffic period.

Then, when I was 15, I legally practiced outside Greensboro, NC. Dad would drive us out of town, find a quiet area, and hand me the keys. It went pretty smoothly.

In my town, everyone used the vast parking lots of USGS (U.S. Geological Survey), which were deserted on the weekends. Although both my brothers apparently learned to drive by sneaking out at night after my parents were asleep and driving their car up and down the street. My dad was pleased at what "naturals" they were when it came time for their lessons.

I learned when I was about 12. On a stick shift. In the hills of Berkeley (hello, Marin, anyone?). My initial lessons were in the parking lot of Golden Gate Fields. Once I could shift smoothly, we were into the hills. I kinda miss driving a stick shift.

I'm pretty sure I got a couple of parental driving lessons in the mall parking lot, but mostly I learned on the streets with the driver's ed teacher. (But that was an automatic and my parents only had standards.)

First time I drove a car or truck by myself I was about 12, but it was on our property. My had had me drive the pickup truck out to the back 40. I did OK but left it in neutral when I parked it on a hill. (It didn't roll away.) I was driving tractors and a swather before that.

I learned to drive stick on tractors, so when it came time to drive stick in a car, it was very easy, except I was used to tractors so I'd take about two seconds to let up the clutch. I was driving my girfriend's parents' Plymouth Horizon, and she told me not to force the shifter. She said her dad told her to hold the shifter gently like she was holding a guy's cock.

I still don't know how to drive stick, although I would like to. My dad tried to teach me that once, in his new Taurus with a really tight clutch, and it was just bad news all around. I think I was 22 or 23 then.

Cracked a tooth. (A pasta salad made with boneless skinless chicken breast turned out to have a hidden chicken bone.) Pulled. $1000 bucks.