Dad teaching teen how to drive

Maybe I could jiggle the steering wheel and he wouldn’t notice

One of the rites of passage is learning to drive.

When I made it through the driver training course at high school, my dad thought it was safe for him to get in a car with me in the driver’s seat.

Unfortunately, the car he chose was his Porsche.

Talk about being puffed-up over a possession.

He had special driving gloves and a slouchy English-style driving hat.

(For a German car, shouldn’t he have had one of those cuckoo clock hats with feathers sticking up?)

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