Learning to Drive- The Dad Way

Learning to drive left permanent scars in my head. My dad was the lucky one who got to teach me. We were the only kids in our school whose parents had Volkswagens. Everyone else had the land-barges of the seventies. My parents were sort of hippies as far as their politics. From the time we could stand up, we washed the cars. Those were the days of chrome bumpers, and those got rust on them. I remember sitting on the driveway cement and applying "Brasso" until the rust came off. It took a lot of elbow grease. I still use "Brasso" today, as a matter of fact.
Anyway, before I was even allowed to sit behind the wheel, I had to read "How to Keep Your Volkswagen Alive: A Manual of Step-By-Step Procedures For The Compleat Idiot" cover to cover (I think this book was the mother of all the "Dummy/Idiot" books you see today.) My dad took me to a parking lot to learn the basics of handling a stick- shift; unfortunately my parents didn't believe in automatic transmissions. I remember the poor Bug jerking violently in 1st gear, and my dad asking me "Now what happens in the car when you push the clutch in?" My thought(answer) was "I don't give a flying ?%#@%*^ what is happening in the car- I just want to get out of 1st gear." To this day, I still hear his voice when I'm pushing the clutch in.
But, as a result of all this, I do know a bit about car repair and trouble-shooting.
My dad also sort of taught me to drive the Dutch way. I'm thinking that most police would frown on this. I remember when I got my first car. It was a 1969 Volvo, and I can hear my dad telling me to go ten miles over the speed limit around corners-"these cars just love to corner!"
Maybe that's why I grew up to own a MINI Cooper S that has the bumper sticker "Bend the Rules-Rule the Bends" on the back.
Damn you, Daddy.

Here it is today: