We’ve all had our first time behind the wheel. Filled with trepidation, excitement, and nervousness, it is one of those firsts in life that we will always remember.
I was about nine or ten. Working in the yard, my father told me to move the pickup forward a few feet. After dropping the clutch and peeling off half of some shrub of my mother’s, I got a more complete lesson driving around the nearby cemetery later that day.
The pickup was a 1970 Ford F-100 my father had purchased new with the 240 cubic inch straight six, three-speed manual, and am radio. That was it.
Despite my impressionable age, I have never seen a pickup as eager to be overworked as that old pickup was.
The yellow F-100 at the bottom of this ad is identical in color and trim.
He kept it until 1985. The tin worm had set in and the body supports gave way, putting the transmission linkage in a bind. Stuffing a few 2×4’s under the body, we went to trade it off for a very lightly used 1984 F-150.
So our question: Whether you were of age or not, what was the first vehicle you ever drove?
Hi Jason,
it was a 1972 Triumph Toledo. The registration inlcuded the digits 999, which is English for 911……..
My first drive on the streets (and the freeway) was in my Mom’s ’65 Dodge Coronet wagon. I was 15, and had no license or instructions….full lurid story here: https://www.curbsideclassic.com/auto-biography/d-stands-for-drive-auto-biography-part-9/
A 1955 Cadillac four door. The family car.
I was all of 7 years old at the time. Our family business was a 150 acre camping/fishing resort (camp ground) and during the off season I was allowed to drive the Cadillac, (by myself!) all over the property.
I had very trusting parents.
I wish it was something a bit more exotic but a well used 1986 Plymouth Turismo my father had obtained as a second car for the family. The dash was swapped in from a Charger at some point. Ours eventually developed a blown headgasket or coolant leak (didn’t know much about mechanics then). Leaked coolant like crazy so we only filled with straight water from a garden hose. I couldn’t go anywhere that I couldn’t borrow a hose to re-fill. Drove it like that for months.
While it wasn’t the first car I drove, from 1989 (age 18) to 1995 (age 24) I owned an ’85 Plymouth Turismo that was virtually identical to the one in your picture, that same light metallic blue color. Mine lacked the spoiler at the base of the trunk/hatch that 90% of Turismos/Chargers seemed to have, as well as the louvers on the back window that were also very common — from the picture it looks like yours didn’t have the spoiler or louvers either? Mine was a real stripper that seemed to have been ordered with virtually no options other than an automatic transmission. Among other things, it lacked a rear widow defroster (this on a car sold new in Massachusetts) and a dome light on the interior ceiling (the only light in the interior was a small map light at the very front of the ceiling).
That wasn’t our car pictured but again it was that exact light blue colour. I don’t believe ours had the spoiler or louvers. It was pretty basic except for the automatic gearbox.
Hmmmm. I recall sitting in my father’s lap and steering his 66 Country Squire when I was maybe 7 or 8. By the time I was 12 or 13 I was allowed to drive his 72 Mark IV about 1/4 mile to his mailbox (all on a private gravel road) and back. A couple of years later, I would spend hours at a time in my stepmom’s 68 Cutlass (that was otherwise sitting unused after she got a 74 Cutlass) on that same U shaped gravel road. Kept the battery charged up. Yeah, uh-huh.
1962 Renault Dauphine with automatic. Dad brought it home one summer afternoon for lunch in ’64. I was 14 at the time. Dad was with me, and we just kept it around the neighborhood.
A small Hanomag Henschel double-cab flatbed truck. I smashed it through the fence of one of our neighbors, and stranded in the middle of his vegetable garden. The total distance I drove was about 30 meters. The engine wasn’t running, but I did manage to release the handbrake and I got it into neutral just before my short trip. It was the sloping road that did the rest…
We’re talking early seventies, when I was about 5 years old.
When I was about that age I got behind the wheel of the family 1955 Studebaker and fooled around pretending to drive. I inadvertently pushed the column shifter out of gear and it started coasting backwards down the driveway. Yikes!!! Somehow I got it back into gear and stopped before it reached the street.
I never heard about the car’s unexplained move at the time. But it was a vivid enough experience to leave a clear memory!
Later I drove a 1960-ish pickup less than a mile on my grandparents’ Kansas farm. That stopped after I nearly put it into a ditch trying to turn. My real first driving was Dad teaching me to drive his 1961 VW Bug.
I see you were more skilled than me by stopping the Studebaker all by yourself.
My first fully legal trips were in a VW Golf Mk1 diesel (the car I took driving lessons in) and our family’s 1979 Ford Fiesta 1300 S. Both with a 4 speed manual. The Ford sure was a hot little hatch. Certainly compared to the Golf diesel, that is.
But the Golf was very easy and simple to drive. Once the engine was warm you could put it into first, release the clutch, and it would roll down the road all day long without touching the gaspedal.
The Ford demanded more concentration for flawless driving. And its automatic choke sucked, if I recall correctly.
I did the same thing in a 64 Cutlass, when I was maybe 5 or 6. I didnt get it stopped, must have been too thrilled by the drive.
Probably an MGB, at a church campout when I was around 13 or so. The owner, on whose farm we camped over the weekend, gave every boy there a chance to drive it…
This: https://www.curbsideclassic.com/cars-of-a-lifetime/coal-1978-chevrolet-van-the-iron-maiden/
Well, to really plumb the depths of my memory, my first time behind the wheel was at about 7 or 8 years old, sitting on my father’s lap in his ’54 Ford Customline, attempting to steer the car into the garage (it didn’t work very well). Beyond that, learning to drive in my parents’ cars in 1963, dad’s ’61 Falcon Fordor and mom’s brand new ’63 Mercury Monterey Custom 4-door hardtop (I didn’t get to practice in that car very often). Memorable times.
77 Impala wagon. A few times around a parking lot of course, but then a real trial by fire. Leaving Providence heading home to Philly, Dad had me drive. I 95 can be pretty intimidating to say the least. But not hitting anything sure gave my confidence a boost.
1982: It was a 1973 Plymouth Duster, 318-V8-automatic-metallic gold with a black vinyl top and black int bench seat.
Was my Dad’s car and became mine when I passed my test.
Dad then bought a 1974 Ford Country Squire from a friend with only 29K miles.
The vehicle that would ultimately become my first car: 2004 Toyota Highlander Limited
https://www.curbsideclassic.com/cars-of-a-lifetime/coal-2004-toyota-highlander-my-first-car/
My dad’s ’66 Chrysler, on the road in front of our cottage. I was probably around 12. He was in the passenger seat.
I’ve only ever driven that car one other time (legally) because he parked it when I turned 16. I drove it a bunch of times, but only in and out of the garage, when I spent one summer fixing the brakes and doing bodywork on it in the driveway.
1976 Ford LTD. Pretty basic big family car. Not very broughamy. In my high school parking lot on a Sunday with my dad in the passenger seat. I wanted that day for at least 8 years. I remember every detail of that very uneventful 1st trip.
At age 16 and with NYS learner’s permit, my dad’s 1985 Chevrolet Caprice sedan, in a blinding February snowstorm off Lake Ontario. He pulled over, we switched seats, and he said, “You may as well learn to drive in this stuff, so let’s start now.”
’72 Pontiac Catalina with a 455. Believe it or not, a high school driver’s ed car.
Wow! My high school Driver’s Ed car (summer, 1975) was a ’75 Buick Century wagon and for stick-shift, a ’74 Chevy Nova . . .three on the tree, 350 4-bbl V-8. Lots of kids in the advanced group we were in inadvertently burned rubber (or not!) off the line in that car . . . .
My brothers Ford Anglia on my 17th birthday
My first drive was in my father’s 1960 Ford Fairlane 500, with the 223 CID six and Fordomatic. I got my learner’s permit in January, 1968 and, on the trip home, managed to slide on some ice and end up with two wheels in someone’s lawn. Fortunately for me there was no damage to either the grass or the car. To his credit, and my relief, my father never said a word about the incident.
A 1977 Plymouth Volare Premier wagon with 360 and Torqueflite.
1969 Ford F-100 stepside, 360 V8.
Jason, I just had a ’70 F-100 in decent shape pass me at an intersection today in central TX.
Hank and Jason – about the time my Grandfather was still alive and shortly after my very first driving lesson in Granny’s New Yorker, Grandpa let me drive HIS ’67 Ford Ranger. Loaded – 289 V-8 and the under-dash A/C unit. No power steering or brakes, but it did have Cruise-O-Matic.
The first car I steered was a 72 Toyota Corona. I have a very vague memory of sitting on my fathers lap steering my grandfathers car. I would have been four at the time.
The first car I drove was our 74 Vega hatchback. I’d been bugging dad for years to teach me to drive so he relented when I was 15 and had me drive around in the Sears parking lot on Sunday afternoon.
My most memorable early drive was in my Grandfather’s 80 Concord. As I’ve mentioned before he learned to drive in his early 40’s and never went on the highway. I had just gotten my beginners and went with my mostly non-english speaking grandparents to visit some relatives about 250km away. The trip there was endless as Grandpa stuck to the minor roads. After our visit as we walked out to the car he gave me the key and said “You drive, and go on the highway.” I was pretty white knuckled for my first time on the 401, I think Grandpa even sat in the back seat leaving Grandma and I to navigate up front.
1953 Ford Mainline 2 door, el cheapo, 3 on the tree, rubber floor mats, etc. Only options were flathead V8 and a radio.
My father’s 1979 Datsun 510 sedan. In 1982 when I 16 1/2 years old – learners permit.
Manual steering and brakes – but automatic!
I learned to dive a stick a year or so later on the small dump trucks my town used for the parks and rec department where I was employed during summer breaks.
The first car I actually drove was my father’s 1973 AMC Gremlin when I had just received my learner’s permit.
The bad news is that…it was a Gremlin, with all that implies.
The good news is that, after learning to drive on a Gremlin, there was pretty much nowhere to go but up.
My dad let me steer his 1966 VW on a back road. That was in 1967, I was ten.
First vehicle I actually drove by myself: 1958 Chevy Fleetside with the no-flame six, 3-on-the-tree and 6 gallons of Bondo. That was in 1971.
First vehicle I actually drove on a highway: 1964 Chevy II wagon, 194/6 and 3-on-the-tree. It was three days after I turned 15 and got my learner’s permit.
1972 Dodge Dart Swinger. Green with the biggest V-8 my grandfather could get. He had a near death experience trying to merge on to the Jersey Turnpike in his 1971 slant six Swinger and desired more power. After he passed my grandmother kept it for years. My brother and I both learned to drive in it on our great uncles farm in West Springfield, MA. That thing only got stuck once in the fields and Uncle Joe pulled it out with his tractor. Ah, memories.
I fear I’m turning into my grandfather and will end up owning a new Dart.
At the “tender” age of 12, taking our 1998 F-250 LD (light duty; it’s a jellybean F-150 with heavier frame, suspension and tranny cooler) roughly 1.5 miles from one farm to another. My father led the way with the JD 3020 and hay baler, meaning we never went faster than 22 downhill.
Of course, before that, I learned to “drive” at 8 on the JD 7210, which is by far one of the easiest tractors to learn on (along with the 7410, which was basically a 7210 with an air-conditioned cab and a radio). Moving to the 3020 or 2510 was a little harder; it takes a little elbow grease for an 8-year-old to shift a non-synchro 8-speed with a non-intuitive shift pattern.
Of course, before THAT, Dad would hitch the ’79 F-250 (the “blue pickup”) behind the hay baler/hay racks/whatever and drive the whole train from our place on the west side of town to the farm on the east edge. I sat in the “caboose” and steered, which was harder than it looked to a 7-year-old with no concept of power steering.
4 door 1973 Chevrolet Impala, I was 15 and the car was already beat to death and rusted.
Pretty cool what percentage of us had the experience of steering a car on our father’s or grandfather’s lap. I thought that the day I was permitted to steer the family Olds (76 Cutlass Supreme) on my Dad’s lap was about the coolest thing ever. That car was history by my fifth birthday, so I was pretty small – kudos to Dad for giving in and enabling my early and apparent fascination with all things automotive!
1992 S10, V6 with a stick. Drove it up the hill at my dad’s work, probably 13. It was the company truck, his boss (and friend) later said to us “I saw that thing jerking up the hill”.
First real drive on street/highway was in dad’s 05 Mustang, GT with a stick, the day after I got my permit in a car that was only a couple months old. I was terrified I was going to wreck it.
Well does sitting on someone’s lap at 5/6yo count? If so, then the very 1st time was around 1968 or ’69 in a 1966 Cadillac Calais (Identical to the car pictured) For a while, it was almost a weekly thing, and I was in charge of doing all of the steering and turn signals, he handled the gas and brake.
This style of ‘driving’ with me went on for several years, mostly in ’70’s Eldorado convertibles, but several other Cadillacs as well. (my Mom dated a Cadillac Sales Manager for over 9 years of my childhood) and after I got taller and better at it, then I was fully behind the wheel. When I wasn’t behind the wheel, he also used to drive with the top down going up to the Abbey in Wisconsin and I recall that giant Cadillac speedometer needle being off to the right around the 100 mark while he steered with one hand, and shelled pistachios in the other, then throwing the shells into the wind. I would sit on the center armrest like a booster to see out better while my Mom was swearing at him to slow down and ‘stop driving like that’
My grandfather had me drive all the time from age 10-14 at 4 or 5am UCD, to go fishing together. Once I got really good, he had me even driving with the boat on the trailer hitch while he dozed in and out of sleep. Those 2 cars were either ’72 or ’73 tan Nova Coupe and then an early ’70s baby blue Ford Gan Torino sedan.
At the age of 13, for an entire summer. I joy-rode my Mother’s 1973 Sedan DeVille to and back from the house in Palos, IL to the borders of: Indiana, Michigan & Wisconsin, and all over the South suburbs of Chicago.
I already had my own Craftsman tools, tune up equipment and detailing set-up from 8/9yo, and knew all about cars and was already tuning up and maintaining several family cars.
Anyhow, I would get under the car and unscrew the speedometer cable so the odometer would not rack up mileage. I sat on a sofa pillow and wore mirrored aviator sunglasses. When nearing the house, I would fuel back up, park the car and connect the speedo cable back again. The Cadillac only got about 9mpg, and I think gas was around .70c gal I did this with my best friend all summer long, nobody ever knew, and no accidents. When my Mom got home from work on those days (car pools then), all she saw was her wonderful, well-behaved son just finishing a wash/wax on her beautiful car, none the wiser.
At the end of summer, returning from a trip to and from the Wisconsin border again, I stopped in a toll-booth and the car died out. It didnt break down, it ran out of gas. We were both 13yo and only had some change in our pockets. We jumped out and pushed the car to the side. Remember no cell phones or any of that stuff. So, we talked for a bit and I decided that I was gonna climb the tollway fence over into a residential area to see what I could come up with. The fence was very high but I made it over. I found a man cutting his lawn and then explained to him that my family was stranded, out of gas on the Tollway and that nobody had a wallet or money with them other than a buck and change. You must keep in mind this is about 1976 very different people and times. He offered me the fuel that was left in his gas can and I promised him that I would even return it after using the gas. Not only that, but he gave me $5 no strings attached but a promise to return the can. I got back to the fence and my friend Roger climbed up one side while I on the other and we got the can over without dropping it. It was easy to pour with those old flexible metal snake screw caps the cans had. After emptying it into the Cadillac, I did actually go back and return the can with a big thank you. (i mean, i was raised right ya know 🙂
So, we got past that part and as soon as we exited the tollway, we fueled up with his $5 to head back so I could drop off Roger at his house and then get Mom’s car back in it’s place in time for her arrival from work.
Well, that day was the double whammy on me. First the fuel incident, then upon pulling up to drop off Roger around the corner from his house (which I did dozens of times) he gets out and walks away. Right as I start the car, a local police car pulls up behind me with the lights on. I can’t tell you how scared I was because I knew I was screwed for sure. And, my friend Roger was around the bushes peeking and then bolted into his house. uggh Anyway, the officer approached the car, I had the window down and he, as they do… asked for my Driver’s License. I told him, oh, I don’t have it with me right now, I lost my wallet. He saw the pillow I sat on (it was orange and against white leather. yep), and then asked me to remove my sunglasses. He said something like, son, you don’t have a drivers license do you? My immediate reply was this: Please… just let me get this car back home, its just like 3 minutes from here. I HAVE to get the car home. Just let me get the car parked at home and then I can go with you …
Son, you aren’t going anywhere in this car, lock it up right here, give me the keys and you are coming with me. He took me to the station, put me in a small room all alone, I was shaking and starting to cry. He asked me questions about family, etc then called my Mom at work, explained to her what he discovered and that he had me at the station. My Mother tells me she told him to just make me stay right there until she left work at her regular time and got there to pick me up. I was there for hours in terror, worry and fear with no way out this time. It was horrible.
I got in trouble with this being recorded against me in Illinois and they determined that I would not get a DL until I was 22yo on a state record. The only way I got out of it all early was because I started driver ed at school and after the 2-3yrs passed, I told my Mom I NEEDED a car to get a good job. Eventually I convinced her and the only reason I could do it was that her close friend Bob G. worked for the Sec of State office in Springfield, IL Let’s say he ‘fixed’ it and made it go away for me. w/o him, I would not have been driving until 22yo!
So, I finally got my own 1st car to drive, a 1974 Triumph Spitfire Convertible. I will save the horrid details on that British TURD for another thread or post.
Hope you enjoyed my memories of first-time driving escapades 🙂
I certainly did. Excellent.
Daring! I never had that kind of nerve.
Mike, appreciate you calling it ‘daring’. Today, in retrospect… I can look back and call it any number of ‘other’ things, even myself. There were actually 2 additional cars involved over that time that I secretly drove also and the owners never knew about it. I didn’t mention them here because they are an entire story all on their own. Those cars were a Fleetwood Brougham and a Monte Carlo. At one point, I had my own key copies to 3 different people’s cars.
I was so lucky that I never had an accident or worse. No license, no insurance. I don’t know what my family would have done if that happened.
On the other hand… It was all the adults around me though that trained and encouraged me to drive across a full 10 year span before the law allowed it. And, I did get pretty good at it too. One thing is certain, I didn’t need lessons by the time it came up in high school driver ed 🙂
It did make for a great convo and family laugh together though when we celebrated my 50 last November.
“On the other hand… It was all the adults around me though that trained and encouraged me to drive across a full 10 year span before the law allowed it.”
They did set themselves up for this. My oldest just came up for her license last year. She pointed out that the neighbor girl was being allowed little joy rides around the block a couple of years early. I said no, you have no insurance and your time will come.
The neighbor lucked out and never had any incidents. On the other hand, a week before her 16th birthday, I was moving cars around to get our boat out, and I asked my daughter to move our Durango from the street to the driveway while I bought gas. I came home and she had this sad face. She had backed up unnecessarily to improve her swing into the driveway, and clipped the brick six box mailbox by the curb. Made a mess of the bumper cover. I was very lucky that the mail box was fine. They get hit occasionally and can collapse into a $4,000 pile of bricks.
All my caution very nearly collapsed with my request that she drive illegally on 60 feet of public street! My daughter offered to pay for the bumper cover but I told her it was quite technically my fault.
Hey CC-ers…
Thought this would be fun to add to my post, just spent a bit of time (having a cocktail) and digging thru some old shoe boxes of photos. Took a couple of quick pics of a pic, so no so good plus v old.
Anyhow these are 2 of the cars in my story that I drove. The infamous 1973 Cadillac Sedan deVille, and a great memory to run across of my Grandpa lying on the hood, drinking a Schlitz beer! with his recent purchased Chevrolet Nova. (one of you will know the exact year by the grille, color or something 🙂 but the pic says June of ’72
The other good news is that I found quite a few pictures of some of my dozens of cars that I have not seen or looked at in years (and my childhood car shrines),so I will scan them in for use in the future here when an appropriate post comes up.
If you’d like to take a shot turning your stories into a CC post, let me know. Vintage snapshots and stories to go with them are always popular here.
Now I want a Schlitz!
“Anyhow, I would get under the car and unscrew the speedometer cable so the odometer would not rack up mileage.”
Haha that’s awesome! All that brilliance undone by running out of gas!
I too steered and shifted but from the passenger’s seat. I developed a fine sense for steering and shift feel at a young age. Domestic power steering back then was downright scary. When I steered in my uncle’s non-power steering Maverick for the first time it felt like a sport car.
If a car has bad steering feel (like the C3 Audi 5000) I cannot fall in love with it. I’m more tolerant of bad shift feel because you can adapt to it. Hard to do with steering.
Okay, as a preface I am only 16 and have my learner’s permit. (Really behind on practice hours too lol). The first car I drove was my mom’s beige 2004 Honda Odyssey. Rubbish steering but I liked that revvy Honda engine. Only drove it around a parking lot for an hour and a half. The first car I drove on the road was my driving teacher’s 2000 Chevy Impala. Good car but brakes were soft. Second car I drove on a road was my dad’s 2011 Mercedes C300 Sport 4Matic. That was a helluva fun car to drive.
1976 International Harvester Scout II
In the field behind our house. Dad figured it was time to learn how to drive a stick and since it was the third vehicle and needed occaisional exercise, he figured it was a good opportunity. Off we went with a granny gear and 304V8, learning how to slip the clutch and not roll backward on inclines.
1967 Ford Galaxie 500 4 door sedan with the 390. Can’t recall the exact place, but more than likely the cemetery, considering we lived next door.
1984 Chevy Cavalier and 1980 Buick Regal
My first car i drove was a 1976 vw bay window bus at my grandfather’s farm. 2.0 with automatic. I must have been 15 at the time. My dad didn’t believe in fast, expensive cars for his kids.
1958 Plymouth Belvedere 4 Door Hardtop, Red and White. The car was new, I was eleven.
at Age 12 (1983) drove my mothers 1974 Delta 88 Royal Around Cleveland at 3AM listening to spandau ballet “True”. Needless to say she hid her keys from that point on.
Ever since then loved Oldsmobiles.
lol that’s why you have to go make your own set of her keys and then you hide your set away from her. -worked every time 🙂
When I was about 4 I sat in my dad’s lap and “steered” our ’61 VW around a parking lot while he worked the pedals and gear shift. I’m pretty sure he kept a hand on the wheel just in case. When I was about 11 or 12 he started letting me drive our ’73 Impala on back roads once in a while, and that was the first time I ever drove a car myself. That became a regular thing, and by the time I actually got my beginners I was already quite comfortable driving. Love the old Ford truck brochures – the late ’60’s and early ’70’s Fords are probably my favorite pickups of all time.
Probably it was our 1978 Caprice Classic. I flunked the first driving test I took in that car, though (parallel parking). The second time I used my dad’s 1981 Chevy Custom 10 pickup, and passed with flying colors. I think the truck was somehow easier to parallel park because the corners of the long bed were so visible!
1973 Corolla 5 speed Sport Coupe (as referenced in yesterday’s Corolla Liftback article). Even though Toyotas are everywhere nowadays, back then it was a rather rare and unique ride.
If I ever find one on the street, it will appear in a COAL article.
My Grandmother’s 1969 Chrysler New Yorker four-door sedan. I was visiting her in the summer (like I normally did) and I slid in behind her and drove the car on a country road. I was about 11 years old.
The first vehicle i “soloed” in was grandpa’s 1930’s IH tractor. He did have to crank start it. I dont remember how old I was at the time, probably ten or eleven.
My friend’s mom’s 3-cylinder auto Geo Metro. He let me drive it (with he and another friend in it) to the beach on several occasions, most notably once on a holiday weekend. He said that he should probably drive it home since the cops were out. He was right; we got pulled over for some bogus reason. Cop let us go with a warning.
Fiat 500, through the streets of Rome. From the backseat (much love Zio Pietro).
My time driving a working vehicle was an 05 Sedona because our 95 Voyager had yet to be returned from Delaware where it had been found after being stolen. The Sedona’s touchy accelerator meant I spun the tires often and the overly easy to turn steering wheel scared both my mom and I.
Snapper riding lawnmower.
Well, if we’re going to go there, then ditto, except I think it was a Cub Cadet. Probably 10 at the time, almost ran myself over. Don’t ask…
I am amazed at how many of you joy rode your parents car. Maybe I was too much of a goody goody, but the thought never crossed my mind. I did have a friend who took his dad’s F100, but he got caught when he nearly sidewiped another truck and busted off the truck mirror. Then he got his license anyway, and after our graduation party had some, er, difficulty backing out of the hosts driveway and got the trucks step bumper stuck in the wheel well of another car. He was lucky it was 1980 because he got off without a DUI, which wouldn’t happen now…he’d have been locked up.
Come to think of it maybe he led a charmed life, this was the same friend who dried his homegrown in his mom’s toaster oven and didn’t get caught.
When I was learning how to drive, in 1987 (gasp — 27 years ago…ha ha), my parents had 2 cars. One was a 1978 Plymouth Volare station wagon. No, it wasn’t a rust bucket. In fact, it was in nice shape. I drove that, and I drove a 1980 Ford Fairmont Futura. The Ford would later become mine, when I went to college.
Technically, does a go-kart at a track at age 5 or 6 count?
Only if your name is Jeff Gordon.
Or if you are The Stig?