Memory #26: Learning to Drive the Mustang

When I turned 14, my Grandma Jenkins gave me her 1966 Mustang that she had purchased, as she liked to say, right off the showroom floor.  She was so proud of that car.  I remember spending summers with her "garage sale-ing" and people would walk up to her and ask how much she wanted for the car.  Without hesitation, and with a giant smile spreading across her face, she'd say, "it's not for sale."  She loved that.
When I got my learners permit Grandma and my mom decided to take me out and teach me how to drive the Mustang.  With my mom in the back seat and Grandma in the front we headed out.  Things were going OK despite the sticky clutch and I was actually getting the hang of the 3 speeds on the floor.  We pulled up to an intersection with a 4-way stop and we happened to be on an incline.  Three other cars pull up at the same time.  I tried waiting for them to go, but it was my turn and they weren't budging.  While Grandma was calmly giving me instructions on how to avoid killing the engine (again) my mom was in the back seat anxiously shouting for me to go.  As I was rolling backwards down the hill another car was pulling up right behind us and next thing I know everyone in the car is shouting, including me!  Struggling to get going I ended up flooring it and peeling out of the stop through the intersection as my mom is in hysterics, I'm terrified for all of our lives and Grandma was laughing so hard I thought she might pee her pants.  After realizing we'd survived, the three of us had a good hard laugh.  That was so much fun.