My first time was in the spring of 1995, the car was a barely driven 1994 Camaro Z28. I was 14 and had just met the owner of the car the day before through a school friend. We went up to the grocery store and half-way there he stopped and had me drive the rest of the way. I did fine on my way up there and parked in the parking lot just fine. While shopping my new friend said I was a natural. He then had me drive back home, it went really well.
I was doing so well that he had me park it in the garage, and so I did. I put it in park and for some stupid reason hit the throttle. The next thing I knew I was hearing tire squealing and we were flying backwards out of the garage. It wasn't in park! I slammed on the brakes but the damage was done. The driver side mirror was now laying on the ground and I was clenching the steering wheel saying, "Oh &#!^, Oh &#!^"
My new friend calmly put the car in park and told me to get out. He nonchalantly tossed the mirror into the back seat and parked the car in the garage. He told me to follow him then he went to the kitchen, fixed a drink then went to the basement and started a fire. He told me to have a seat. I was petrified. He took a few drinks then looked at me, shrugged, chuckled a little then said, "After its fixed you are gonna drive it back home from the dealer"
That guy is one of my best friends to this day.
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My first time behind the wheel of a big truck wasn't a big deal because we were in the school's yard. The first time on public roads was downright frightening. Cars cutting me off, honking at me and flipping me off. By the time my two hours were up I was visibly shaking.
The same things still happen almost 10 years later, I'm just better at dealing with it
