Hooniverse Asks- What Was Your Most Awkward Driving Experience?
Decades ago, I got to drive a Caterham Se7en. That might seem like a plum opportunity, and one to be savored, however this Caterham in question was right-hand drive, had Webers that were jetted for the track, as well as a clutch that Arnold Schwarzenegger would find harder than explaining why the maid’s son has gapped teeth. My previous right-hand driving experience had been limited to a rather rough and shiver me timbered Morgan, which I embarrassingly pawed the air outside of with my right hand, missing most of the shift opportunities.
But back to that Caterham. I was ill prepared for what it took to drive that thing, and keeping the revs in a place where dumping the hair trigger clutch wouldn’t cause the engine to flat-line was exacerbated by the fact that nearly everything was on the wrong side. Needless to say, my lack of mad skillz did not engender confidence in the owner, and when took over behind the tiny gokart-esque wheel, he proved that the problem had been me, and not the car. Sadness ensued.
But what about you, have you had either a run-in with a car that was not immediately masterable? Or, perhaps you’ve had a trip with others that has been so surreal that it made you wonder what kind of drugs you were on. Either way, what has been your most awkward driving experience?
Image source: [apartmenttherapy]
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3 completely different ones come to mind…
1. Driving an E34 M5 as the first RWD-vehicle I ever drove, on the winding roads around the Nurburgring trying to keep up with a set of other owners of E34 M5's as the driver of the car I was in was too stoned to drive himself
2. Being a passenger in a track-tuned Toyota Supra MKIV with "over 600 BHP" ( according to the owner ) while it was flown around the Nurburgring, doing a 7:45 lap on a tourist-day…
3. Driving the "Contra-car" at a rally-school… To demonstrate the importance of "looking where you're going" they put us in a car that goes left when you steer right ( inverted steering ), and we were forced to drive a cone-course with it against a timer, the first corner everybody goes to the wrong side, but then you start focussing on NOT looking at your steeringwheel but at where you want to go and 'magically' your hands start doing the right thing even though your mind keeps yelling "YOU'RE STEERING THE WRONG WAAAAAY!!!"
I remember seeing a street performer in London with a contra-steer bicycle. He would bet people they couldn't ride it 10 feet or so.
talking about driving school… when I was working at BMW, we had an ESP demo by a professional driver, at a high speed to do an Elk test. with close cones.
I like sensations, so to spice it up I decided sat in the middle seat of the second row (was a 07 3 series). I got quite shaked.
yeah, the Elk-test was part of rally-school too, had to do it at 30 mph, 35 mph and 40 mhp, didn't get a single cone
( contrary to most people at the course 
) but I've been slippin' and slidin' my whole life… First thing my father said when I got my learning permit: "when it snows, pick a nice big parkinglot, put 2 bottles there, aim for them but before you get there, steer or brake and still try to get through the bottles, just so you know what your car'll do in real life", I've done it every year since then ( almost 30 now, so this'll be my 12th year 
), still the best driving-tip I ever got from anyone, so I pass it on to everyone I can 
That reminds me of some of the most awkward driving I've seen. Around Christmas last year, one of the news stations had decided to do a bit about how cold it was and how great the snow was in Tahoe. They had decided one of their demonstrations should be how slippery the roads are.
So, as I drove into the parking lot, I found a news crew pointing a camera at their black Chevy Tahoe and one of them was doing the crappiest donuts I have ever seen. The traction control was causing them to drive quickly through half a circle at which point, the driver would slow down because the tail hadn't gone out.
It wasn't that icy, but seriously, he should have been able to break his wheels loose. It was one of the more pathetic displays I've ever seen. I walked into the locker room shaking my head as I watched them continue to drive in circles (they spent a long time failing to do donuts).
Anyway, I was reminded of this because they obviously hadn't done as you described.
damn, sitting in on a 7:45 Ring run must've been amazing…
you can be sure it was
the great thing is, the driver was soo good ( had the bridge-to-gantry-touristfarthen-record for 4 years with that Supra ) that it didn't scare me as much as I would've thought… I've had about 50 passengerlaps with drivers of all kinds of skill-levels ( a few where I was the 'most experienced Ringer' which is not a good sign at all :p ) and with that guy, as soon as we were through Hatzenbach, I knew I was safe
He also took my wife around for a lap and managed to pass 4 ferrari 430's from the "Swedisch Ring Club", so it's not like they were n00bs :p I haven't seen him in 2 years, but in his time, he was the only touristfarher that could pass Sabine every single time…
That's one of the big things about motorcycle riding.
Look where you want to go. That guy who is crashing…ignore that, avoid the parts.
Running out of pavement in a corner? Look for the exit, and trust your tires.
My most awkward driving experience was the one time I attempted to ride a motorcycle. I was at a party and a guy had his sport bike there. A couple of other guys tried to ride it and kept stalling and and couldn't even get it going. We were in a neighborhood. I did manage to get it going on the second or third try, but within 20 feet almost ran it into the curb and stopped. I just wasn't used to every appendage doing two different things at the same time and not necessarily the same way they would in a MT car.
You did better than I would. The only time I ever tried to ride a motorcycle, I was twelve or thirteen and it was a cousin's dirt bike. Anyway, being thirteen or so, I figured, hey, I can ride bike. This is just a bike I don't have to pedal. No big deal.
I got it started. I also made it 30-40 feet. Into a dense stand of bamboo.
Those Kentucky farm boys had a great time laughing at me that day (they later took me on a snipe hunt).
I do seem to remember successfully riding my friends dirt bike when I was 12 or so. For some reason this was totally different.
Well, the only instruction they gave me was, "Hop on and try this! Oh, and give the grip there a crank." At which point, I disappeared into the bamboo.
It's a long story, but it probably would involve picking up my friend's blind sister and her seeing eye dog (a blonde lab with a shedding issue…) at the bus station. The dog proceeded to hop into the back seat of my Volvo 240 with immaculate black velour interior.
I think the term "fur grenade" was used to describe the ensuing mess. Much time and an entire roll of packaging tape was used later…
"Fur grenade" are two words that I'd have never thought to put together, ever. But that phrase, in combination with "black belour", summons a mental picture worth a thousand words.
I've used that description a few times for others, and the cringes on their faces tells me the description is pretty apt.
When picking her up, I tried to not let the look of abject terror on my face show through in my voice as the lab enthusiastically hopped into the back seat. I didn't want to make her feel bad, but most of the drive was spent thinking about the horrors that were occurring back there, and the fear of having to clean it up. Every time the dog adjusted and moved to the other side of the car, it sent another chill up and down my spine.
driving a German car in Detroit is pretty awkward. as soon as you forget how out of place you are, a pickup truck is trying to force you onto the shoulder, or someone is purposely hitting your car as they exit their car. car meetups and the Dream Cruise are also extra fun in a German car.
my answer to critics: i refused to pay extra for a manual transmission when i bought my beloved Hans. a girl's got to have her standards.
(for those of you outside of the Detroit area: here a German sedan is just as offensive as an Asian SUV or pickup truck, which is really offensive.)
Thanks for the heads up. I'll cross at Buffalo when driving my E30. Makes going to Waterford Hills a bit tricky though.
It happens almost daily. Giving customer a ride home in their car. They become completely different people then when they are at the counter. I've heard and seen things that cannot be unseen. I don't need to know about your upcoming doctor appointment because of a "growth" you have. I'm not really concerned about little Jonny who went off to college and is flunking out. The overfilled ash tray and your complaining about trying to quit doesn't really concern me. When I hit the brakes hard and the liquor bottle rolls out from under the seat I will try to nonchalantly slide it back under before you see it and try to explain yourself. Those magazines in the back seat explain a lot about your sex life…shudder…
I totally agree with you Somtimes it fun and u learn things you wouldn't but sometimes it is just stuff you didnt want or need to know. But I did learn early on that YOU NEVER LET THE CUSTOMER DRIVE WITH YOU IN THE CAR!!!! After almost being killed due to 5 heart attacks (i was 17) because of the little old lady almost taking out numurous cars and trucks
Not so much a car, but a trip home with a couple during and after they had a massive argument. I should have just taken the bus home.
My boss and his wife were both Amway
pyramid scheme con artistssales people in the mid-1980s. One by one we, his coworkers, learned to politely refuse his offer of rides when going out to lunch, as he would pop an Amway sales-pitch-recruitment tape into the deck once underway.Driving across Denmark Germany an to reach France … around 1000 miles in 14 hours … at 3 into a 2-seater. The car was a commercial version of a Citroen Xsara, with a very long parcel shelf, under the one the 3rd would lye (we took turns). It was powered by a mighty 70hp 1900cc diesel. That meant foot on the floor 160kph (100mph) on the autobahn. Interestingly this 2 seat car was a 5 door hatchback. Very dangerous I know, but it was 10 years ago, and I was a poor student back in the days.
Also drove from Cairns to Adelaide in Australia, through the center (desert) in a quite small 3door Hyundai Getz hatchback, alone for the most. I think driving through an -empty- desert is a real unique moment everyone should live once.
Finally last week, I had to drive a 2000 Fiat Seicento, RHD. This RHD conversion is ridiculous, the tiny pedals are very close to each other offset on the left, and I had big shoes: you can actually press the 3 pedals with just on foot. It was truly hard to drive your left foot constantly bumping into your right one.
Hmm….
My first car was a Beetle. In the first week of buying it I was still getting used to it over my dad's Toyota PU, and they are very different. I was getting pretty good at the method of starting on hills using the hand brake, something you can't do on the PU and didn't need to with the gearing. With all its newness and funness though I found a strange off idle loss of power. It had fine power(if you can call it power) past 2000rpm but starting was awful, having to ride the clutch and having it sputter. Driving with my dad one day he says, "that can't be good for the car", and I'm saying, "it's not me its the car". Took it to my mechanic, who I bought it from, who gave me a 25 cent tune: sanded the points and cleaned out the carb with a well placed hand gesture. Whole different car!
Other awkward driving experience was in a 1380 Mini Woodie Wagon. I had just had my first mini driving experience in a very well mannered 1275 Pickup. The wagon was a different beast all together. Where the truck is equipped with a Rod/Link transmission and the stock Skinners Union carb, the wagon is equipped with a webber progressive(one working barrel at that point in time) and a pudding stick.
For those of you who have never driven a pudding stick let me explain. Where a normal transmission has an "H" pattern the pudding stick has what I call a "square" pattern. You grab the stick, and push it violently into one of the four quadrants that is "supposed" to equate to one of the four gears and pray. It is the sloppiest and most feelingless shifter I've ever used, and this is coming from a guy who was at the time driving a beetle with a 35 year old linkage. I actually liked the shifter on the beetle. While it was a bit sloppy it had good feedback, telling you that you had made it into gear. On the wagon, you have no idea. Sometimes I would let off the clutch and go nowhere, because it's not in gear. Why can't all transmissions feel like a toyota W56…
#1: A college pal's dad has a '70 Gran Torino GT with a 4 speed and 429. We'd met for lunch and said I needed to see it. We took the cover off and rolled it into the sun. Her dad was gone to China and it needed to be driven.
Popped in, drove it but I was unimpressed with the pickup. I stomped it a few times but it didn't hustle. We made it to a straight and I couldn't get it into 3rd… I thought it was all messed up.
Turned out- I'd been driving the hills in 3rd and 4th all along. (This was the summer of 2010.)
#2: Found an Audi 4000 quattro in a used lot. My pal and I took it for a spin. Made it to a highway and was impressed with how well it went. My pal Nigel (yep- British) said we were speeding. I checked the gauge- Nope 40.
We were going 90+ in 4th or 5th and I had been looking at the TACH which was reading 40×100 instead of 4×1000.
That was fun.
I've got a few stories involving Nigel. He was as nuts about cars as I was back in high school.
I woudn't say what we did was all that awkward but I woudn't want to try it again.
A friend and I got unexpected leave from the Air Force, and decided to fly back to his folks place in Atlanta. He wanted to surprise them, so he calls his friend in town to come pick us up at the airport. His friend had recently bought a Miata, unbeknownst to my friend. So we had three white guys riding through the ghetto of Atlanta (through which we went to avoid the interstate) in a Miata with the top down. We got a lot of weird looks…
Driving an automatic Mercedes with a left-foot gas pedal. No matter how many times i said in my head, or out loud, GAS ON THE LEFT, I inevitably screwed it up. Right foot just kept hitting nothing but firewall. Thankfully it was just around town for a customer but damn it was confusing.
I wasn't driving per se.
The car was parked, the windows were fogged and a LEO knocked on the window to politely remind us that we were illegally parked.
A few years ago when I first got my new racecar it took me about 30 minutes to figure out the racing clutch and not stall. It was a 5-speed sequential and the first stick shift I'd ever driven (I was 14). Now my daily driver is an MT '03 Mini Cooper.
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Legends are awesome. I love to see them at the track, not just the circle, they are showing up in road race classes in my area.
sorry about the giant picture. i didn't think it was that big
no worries, that is a cool photo!
My folks- We visited Germany when my brother was stationed in Kaiserslautern. He rented Vectra for us to drive I drove it everywhere. Mom and pop drove to the store for the first time without me. They we gone for 2 hours…
Dad didn't know you had to pull the collar up on the stick to get it into reverse. They didn't speak German, no one else knew English… Finally they had 3 or 4 big guys push it out. Dad was really mad when I showed him how it worked.
There was a Lotus Carlton parked at that store too.
The last day of my vacation to Grand Cayman, I rented a car. It was my first time behind the wheel of a RHD car and also the first time driving on the left of the road. The car had a stickshift, so it was a little disorienting just trying to remember which limb was supposed to do what and remembering whether first gear was supposed to be to the left or the right of third gear. Turning was the worst, though, trying to deal with the downshifting, while recalling which side of the column had the turn signal stalk, at the same time remembering which side of the median I had to follow.
There wasn't much traffic, so instead of being able to follow a car in front of me to the proper lane, I had to think hard about it each time
Has to be the time I was hitch hiking cross country and got picked up by a guy driving a cabover International semi. After an hour or so of chatting he asked me, "Would you like to see some pictures of my girlfriend?" I shrugged and, sure. So he hands over a stack of polaroids, and I flip through them. All I could think of to say was, "She must be really pretty with clothes on, too."
Less awkward than this: "Oh, so you're straight?"
I was trying really hard not to be rude or to piss him off, and also not to get an invitation to go hang out at his house. I had places to go that involved much better looking women.
Probably not easier though.
better>easy>none
While at the Performance Racing Industry Show two years ago, one of my brand's distributors asked if I wanted to drive the 650 HP 350Z that they had brought with them. Everyone else on our staff said no. I said **** yeah!
In order to handle that kind of power, the clutch was stiffer than anything I had ever driven and the friction zone was approximately .005 mm in length. In other words, you had to know exactly where it was. After killing it twice in the parking lot, I finally got the beast onto the freeway and opened it up. What a rush! Passing anything at will is immensely satisfying, but I tempered it with my desire not to go to jail.
After pulling off of the freeway and toward our dinner destination, I came to a stoplight on the main strip where almost all of the outdoor seating of restaurants on either side was occupied by industry folks and show goers. There I sat, giant exhaust rumbling, ready to make a left hand turn into a parking garage. I know that people were watching me because I saw them watching me. They wanted to see what this jet black hellion could do. What it did was die the second I tried to pull across the intersection.
Getting a speeding ticket with my girlfriend's parents in the car wasn't so great. We were on our way to pick her up from college. When we got there she had decided to dump me for someone else…
I managed to illegally park my parents-in-law's car, with them in it, and had a ticket sitting on the dash on my return. Though, in my defense, no one in the car had noticed the spot was illegal, since there were cars parked down the entire block, and I just joined them. Every car on the block had a ticket.
Yes, I know, no where near as good as your story. Mine didn't end in divorce…
Driving a 1961 Corvette Convertible. It had a three speed manual (if I'm remembering correctly), and it was a poor hackjob of two halfs made together to make one car, which the guy who bought it only found out after he bought it sight unseen.
The car would moan and groan and twist every time I touched the gas pedal. Quite scary and not very safe. Got some cool pictures out of it
.
I guess not exactly a "driving" experience, but awkward nonetheless…my wife (at the time) and I bought a '70 Chevelle, and a week later the Super Chevy Show happened to be at the local dragstrip (Bandimere Speedway outside of Denver). Naturally, we decided to enter the street-tire bracket racing class to see what the thing would run. It was a mild street car, so we just drove it to the track instead of trailering it. The awkward/embarrassing moment was having to ask a bunch of racers that were there with campers until I managed to find one who had a wire coathanger, since – being the dumbass that I frequently can be – I managed to lock my keys in the car in the pits prior to my first time trial run.
Besides the dirt bike incident (posted above) is the story I feel like I've posted 6-7 times here and on that other site. I'm starting to feel like it's my only story. Anyway, so my wife is from Dallas, and her family still lives there. However, her father has a cabin in the Sacramento Mountains in New Mexico. It's a beautiful spot, and the first time I went to meet her parents, they had driven out to the cabin for a week. I flew in to El Paso, and they picked me up there. After two days in NM, we went back to Dallas. This meant piling into their Aerostar (it was fast approaching 300k, it's probably somewhere around 350k now) and driving all the way across Texas. At that point, the only car I had driven for the past two years was my M/T college beater.
When my turn at the wheel came up, I tried to throw the clutch in to start the car and my foot found empty air. I felt sheepish but no one noticed. I got it fired up, put it in gear, turned onto the main road only to see a stop sign at the end of the block. Anyway, I'd gotten the van going, now I needed to stop. So, I did what I always do. Clutch in, brake on.
This time, my left foot made sure it found a pedal. I nearly gave my now-in-laws whiplash. I drove with my foot wedged between the base of my seat and the door for the rest of the trip.
One of my most embarrassing was in my 360-swapped 1979 AMC Spirit. This thing handles in a scary and unpredictable way as it likes to start out with the worst understeer you have ever experience switching to snap oversteer at the limit. Add to that an engine with 3.5x the power of a stock six cylinder Spirit (stock was 90hp) and you have potential disaster.
One day I was out for a drive and had a friend in the passenger's seat and was showing off. I was sitting there bragging that no matter what I did the ass end would not come around on this car and it would just plow straight ahead. Only this time, it didn't. I was coming around this corner on a usually lightly trafficked road and promptly nailed it out of the apex. Well then the car started to fishtail uncontrollably with a biker coming in the opposite lane! I narrowly missed hitting either the biker or landing it in the ditch by steering into the oscillations 3 or 4 times before the issue subsided. Needless to say I never again tried to prove that I knew how that car handles at the limit after that.
I happen to own a 6 cyl spirit, in it's defense the stock hp is 110.
You must have the 2 bbl 258 then. I had the 1 bbl 232 that was a 1979-only option and the first step up from the 2 liter VW/Audi/Porsche 4 that came with only a mere 88 hp. I can't imagine why it didn't sell better…
Now I feel stupid. I forgot the 232 was still available in 79.
My first time to drive an automatic with a floor shift.
I was accustomed to my three-on-the-tree FC '67 Dodge, which has plenty of scoot until 3rd gear. I'd also gotten to play around in a friend's '77 Rabbit 4-speed.
So here I am in this '85 Accord, new to a friend of my dad's, and said friend said, "take it for a spin.", tossed my 17 year-old self the keys.
No problem, man.
I'm tooling around a little, then decide to see what it'll do. I do a very mild power-brake in "D", and it motors through first to second, no problem, we're getting some speed, and there, right THERE, it's wound out in 2nd, so I slam the (non-existent) clutch pedal in (but hit the brake pedal as hard as you'd expect), back off the gas, and shove that sucker into…um…neutral.
Said friend with the floor-shift Rabbit was with me, and I thought he was going to die laughing, once he started breathing again. Seat belts are a good thing…. I can see trying to explain a windshield broken on the passenger's side, but not vehicle damage, otherwise.
I'm glad I am no the only person who has ever done that! It seems that every time I drive a car with a floor shift automatic I end up slamming the brakes thinking I am hitting the clutch. It's just such an unusual sensation to drive a car with an automatic transmission when you rarely ever drive a vehicle without a clutch.
Not really awkward, but a memorable experience; I had had my driving license for 3 or 4 weeks and covered probably much less than 1.000 km total, 90% thereof in the countryside. Then all of sudden I found myself driving my friend's '79 Passat LD through the largest city in the country. The LD was apparently short for Lazy Diesel as it was a naturally aspirated 1900cc diesel with way over 300.000 km on the clock. That odometer reading being gained on the country roads also meant that the windshield was practically blasted with sand – not a nice thing when the northern sun is hovering low. Needless to say, the car had poor windscreen wipers, weak brakes, faulty speedometer and generally shoddy everything. After that, I've never hesitated to drive in an unknown, large town.
Then there was the time that my sister and her family went to euroland for a friend's wedding. They borrowed the groom's (whom they'd never met) parent's car to do some errands, and managed to tear the bottom out of it while crossing some railroad tracks. Oopsie.
I had a 1982 Plymouth Sapporo as my first car just before my 16th birthday. It was a 5 Speed and within my parents budget at the time. My prior driving experience was with my dad's 1985 Prelude and my mom's 1986 Integra. The Sapporo was older but had similar power (all 105 hp of it, although much less happy to rev) and it was RWD. I got my permit when I was 14 (per KS state law at the time) and my full drivers license when I was 16 years old. I was a good kid, no accidents or tickets at the time, so shortly after my 16th birthday my parents had agreed to let me drive from Kansas City to Ft. Riley, KS to see a friend. I got there safely and picked up my friend. There wasn't much to do in the middle of Kansas and we decided that we were going to drive to Manhattan KS to see some other friends. It was midday and we weren't in a hurry to get anywhere, so instead of taking the highway my friend, we will call him "Chip" from now on, says lets see where the road that runs along the highway goes. The road was paved for a little while and then it turned into gravel. This was a new driving sensation for me, car felt a little loose on the deep gravel. I wanted to see how loose so I slowed down and wiggled the steering wheel a little. Hey that was fun I thought, lets speed up and wiggle it some more. We were laughing and having a ball with a little rear wheel drive sliding back and forth. I am not sure what happened next, but I must have speed up too much and instead of steering the way I wanted it to go and it decided to understeer. Off the side of the road we went, barely avoiding a big patch of trees/bushes. The slope off the road was pretty steep, probably 30-40 degrees or so. Whew I think, thank god I didn't hit that tree! All I have to do is back up and we are outta here. Um, nope, the car won't move. If we have to call a tow truck it will probably be expensive, and I don't have enough money. My dad is going to kill me, I say to my friend. The front wheels were off the road in the grass and the rear drivers side wheel was pretty much lifted off the gravel road like a dog leg and the passenger rear wheel was fully compressed up in the wheel well off the side of the road. Chip jumps out and tries to push the front while I give it some gas in reverse. No luck. I ask my friend to get behind the wheel and I will push, although he is stronger than I am (all 140 pounds of me at the time). No luck. We sit there for a least 15 minutes thinking about what to do. Remember, back then there were no cell phones, so getting help on this deserted road meant walking, and we didn't know where we were. So, in what seems like a fit of scared rage I lift the front passenger side up a little bit and get the driver rear wheel to make contact with the road and yell at Chip to give it some gas in reverse. Bingo! We see some movement! A couple more tries, of that and pushing the car from the side while giving some gas in reverse and we are back in business. Other than some serious wear on the clutch I couldn't find any damage to the vehicle. I won't do that again!
While living in Australia I would constantly get into the passenger seat instead of the drivers seat because of the whole RHD thing. I was surprised at how well I could parallel park, unless it was on a one way street drivers side. Then I was constantly 2- feet waway from the curb.
While there have been plenty of stories about RHD cars, mine is the opposite. I went with a co-worker to buy a TV after moving to Norway. Despite having never driven a LHD car before, he told me to move his car from the loading bay to the supermarket car park while he did some shopping. So I fumbled about with my right hand, trying to figure out where reverse was (dog-leg and to the left of first), I kept on putting it into gear, slipping the clutch and going forwards, while clogging up the loading bay. Eventually someone knocked on the window and told me to lift the gator to unlock reverse. That was a bit embarrassing.
When I was sixteen I had a 1984 Mustang GT for which it never occurred to me to buy winter tires. One day at the curve down the street from my folks' place I began what I thought was a huge, elegant powerslide in the snow. Except I couldn't gather it up, even with a massive dab of oppo, and ended up in a lawn a couple of feet from the front door. I was terrified of my father seeing the car up on the lawn, so I dug that bastard car out with my bare hands in minutes flat, then blasted a set of ruts right across the lawn. Sod everywhere. Nobody ever mentioned it to me, thankfully…
Wilst still underage and living at home, I had somehow scrounged a small roots blower, somewhat matching mechanical carb, locking rear diffy, and an absolutely unsafe for the street slushbox for the '79 Buick Regal on my grocery bagger salary. No rent does wonders. Unfortunately, one condition of the lack of rent was the car keys all went on a pegboard, ostentatiously such that our father could move a car out of the way if need be. Dad was at work, I was bumming with friends, me dear mother's car did not start, my other car would not start, and she had a doctor's appointment. And there were the keys to the Buick.
I don't know how she saw over the hood scoop. She did pretty well on the way into town. But, on the way back, she gave it a little too much throttle while making a left turn. Might have got caught by the light, who knows. Any how, she did a full 360 before she hooked up, and then it just blasted off down the four lane at the edge of town. The good news, it did head down the right way. Me old mum took it in stride, and just eased off at speed and coasted on home.
Unfortunately, while she thought the whole thing was quite the laugh, me father suddenly developed a huge interest in what I was doing all night in the workshop. Upon his investigation, the car was parked for a year until I was old enough to skedaddle. Moral to the story, Momma could dance but Daddy did not rock and roll.