I was 23, which was the year I learned how to drive. 'Struth. My parents were older than old-school, and had the notion I didn't need to learn how, since I had no car. (I fired back, "Then I don't need to know how to balance a checkbook, since I have no bank account." As usual when they had no good answer, they changed the subject.)

My fiancee, later first wife, taught me to drive. She inherited a little insurance money, and bought a new 1975 Ford Maverick 4-door. (Just $4000 new in those days, folks.) The deal was, we'd both drive it, and I'd learn how to take care of it. Which suited me right down to the ground. I learned from books and from friends how to change oil, coolant, flats, and filters, top off fluids, change spark plugs and upper radiator hoses, and keep the tires properly aired up.

The Maverick was a simple car by today's standards, but it proved a good learning experience. And after years of waiting in the heat and cold for buses, or cadging rides from ever-more-reluctant friends, I was glad to have *any* car, let alone a new one! I was determined to make it last!
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-- Paul W. (The Benzadmiral)
('03 Buick Park Avenue, charcoal/cream)
Formerly:
'97 C230, smoke silver/parchment; '86 420SEL, anthracite/light grey; '84 280CE (W123), dark blue/palomino