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If you want to keep family peace and harmony, HIRE AN INSTRUCTOR!.

My dad taught me to drive. I am the oldest of four kids, and after that horrific time, the other kids got to take lessons.

Don't get me wrong, I loved my Dad, and I am all grown up now, but its still seared into my memory banks, of those fateful "learning to drive" months.

My Dad was really excited to teach me to drive, this was in the 70's, and back then we had cars the size of small countries. I was not finished growing, and on my 16th birthday I measured 5' 2" tall (I since have grown to 5' 10"), cars seemed huge to me!. I opened my presents that day, and out pops this leather key ring, with a copy of the family car key on it, and a copy of the "drivers training handbook"

Back then you had to get your "beginners license" so I studied this book, and wrote the test and passed. I really did NOT want to learn to drive, we lived in the city where there was a bus on every corner and every five minutes, no need for me to drive! But he insisted, that one day I would live somewhere where I would need a car. I gave in.

On our first lesson day, he puts me behind the wheel, and tells me to back out, I had no idea how much pressure to put on the pedal, I had never even sat in the drivers seat before, and we flew out of the driveway at high speed, just missing toys on the driveway and a oncoming car. My heart is pounding, I want to quit now... he is yelling at me, which makes it worse, and my mom and siblings are all staring at me from the window with a look of shock.

We finally started getting into a routine, that usually ended in some kind of argument, and I figured out the driving part, but knew I would have to learn parking. He took me to a park, he had had a bad day at work, and I was frustrated. It was angled parking, and I needed to learn to back in straight. He goes "just pretend the lines are straight"... I gave him the typical teenage look of disgust, and he got mad... so I pretended to back in, got confused and mounted the curb and took out a garbage can.. kids in the park were laughing, dad starts yelling again.. and so I get out of the car and start walking.

I kept walking, he was following me and yelling for me to get in.. I wouldn't, now a days I am sure someone would have called the police with us screaming back and forth, but I walked 8 miles until I got home and my feet hurt. He apologized and figured he was not a good teacher. He got the neighbor to teach me the rest, and I failed my first test, but after some practice I passed the second test. The "teachings" put a rift between us for a while, and its hard enough being a teenager without the added stress of having your parent teach you to drive... and I am sure he got a few good gray hairs from some of the experiences himself, he looked so relieved when I passed and got my license, he looked at the other kids, and said "never again"!

Learn more about this author, Diane Palmer.
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