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The first time I held the steering wheel of a moving vehicle, I couldn’t have been more than five or six. I sat on my dad’s lap and helped him steer while we made lazy turns around the residential side streets near our house. It was the early 80s and we weren’t overly concerned with seatbelts. Air bags weren’t even a thing yet.
There were also countless miles logged on family road trips that kept us driving into the wee hours of the night before pulling over to sleep at the side of the road, to occasionally pitch a tent in a camp site and to sometimes even check into a lonely motel. My dad to taught my brother and I to read all the highway signs, keep our eyes alert to changes in the road markings and know exactly what they meant.
So by the time I had my first driving lesson as a teen, I was pretty sure I had this driving thing in the bag. Seriously, have you even seen me on the bumper cars? I’m amazing. My dad took me down to Cherry Beach and had me drive the old Chevy Malibu (or was it the Buick Skylark?) around the old industrial streets and over the rickety drawbridges. The car was so old and the power steering so far gone that I had to use some muscle to keep the car on course. I still remember the thrill of steering a newer car years later for the first time. So this is how easy it could be!